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Box Brown

Price: 
5.99

Page 45 Review by Jonathan

"I had a vision up there.
"There's more money in this city than anywhere.
"Infinite money.
"For me. My money.
"The city needs Gary Beesh.
"The world needs Gary Beesh."

Gary Beesh, with bequiffed orange hair and ginormous ego, parachuted entirely undeservingly into the top job of real estate mogul in a company owned by his wealthy father... Does he remind you of anyone, I wonder...?

The comparison is entirely intended by Box Brown as he launches a ludicrously funny critique of a certain crass, bumptious businessman with the worst haircut a public figure has had since... errmm... forever? Though arguably you could make a case for Arthur Scargill on that whispy, whooshing front, perhaps...

I'm sure when Box was creating this mini-masterpiece not even he knew just how far The Donald was destined to ascend, with real life becoming even more preposterous than surely any writer of fiction would have been prepared to pen for fear of ridicule. Though we are, of course, all waiting for the presumably inevitable, spectacular fall from grace. How can it not end in tears? Just hopefully not radioactive ones...

Here though, taking his cue from the man himself, Box doesn't worry about the facts and provides a frantically funny alt-biography of the tinsel-haired tyrant. As ever, it's Box doing exactly what he does best, picking one crackpot conceit and seeing how far he can go with it. Or just one crackpot in this case, I suppose! As the writers of Saturday Night Live are finding out with glee week after week, The Donald provides more than a budget surplus worth of material to work with. Which is just as well, because his chances of providing an actual budget surplus are absolutely zero...

For more from the great man - Box obviously, not The Donald - check out TETRIS - THE GAMES PEOPLE PLAY and also AN ENTITY OBSERVES ALL THINGS. Which, I will grant you sounds the like The Donald's approach to monitoring twitter for any dissenting voices before chucking his toys out of the pram, or at least in the vague direction of the keyboard, but no, it's a collection of Box's finest shorts. The Donald of course, only wears Y-fronts...

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