Hello Mr Trump,
After reading Uri Geller’s Facebook post urging Theresa May to cancel Brexit or face his mental wrath, I have been spending the past three days learning to harness the power of my mind in order to deal you a devastating psychic blow. Make no mistake about my dedication to this, in order to prepare myself I have read the following books: Uri Geller’s Little Book of Mind Power, Discover How to Develop Your Hidden Powers by Derek Acorah, and Carrie by Stephen King.
I also watched The Craft and a David Blaine DVD one of my friends had acquired from a charity shop for 30p, during which, the plastic spoon I was using to eat my yoghurt definitely bent slightly. I think this adequately demonstrates to you the potential of my powers. In fact, as I type this, I am already sensing your fear. Over the next few days I will use my new-found astral knowledge to encourage negative energies to unite and take flight to the White House, where they will wreak untold catastrophes upon you and the people around you.
I shall bend these ominous portents to my will, and I predict the following calamities will befall you: at least one person in your household will develop mild to moderate constipation which will last for up to 4 days and can only be alleviated by an over-the-counter laxative. I predict that Melania will lose something very dear to her (e.g. manicure set, favorite hip flask, Richard Clayderman CD etc) which she will not recover for up to five hours. Finally, I predict that you yourself will be haunted by a terrible recurring dream in which a mournful child presents you with photographs of dogs who all have the same hairstyle as you, but on them it looks stylish and not ridiculous.
If you do not believe I can inflict this level of supernatural torment, you only have to get in touch with my friends Gideon and Jerome, who witnessed the following controlled experiments:
I placed my iPhone on a table in front of me. I did not touch it. I had no way of tampering with it. I sat in a chair and willed the iPhone battery to drain. I mentally entered the spiritual realm and used my influence to transfer the energy from the phone into my own consciousness and sure enough after six hours, the battery indicator went from 78 percent to 24 percent. You tell me that’s not genuine.
Jerome went into another room and drew a picture on a piece of A4 paper which he then sealed in a plain envelope. The envelope was placed inside a metal box which was then padlocked and taken via bicycle courier to a location determined by random GPS coordinates generated with a dice throw and inputted into Google Maps by Gideon. I then used all my psychic ability to replicate the drawing Jerome had done, I drew a stick-figure pointing at a happy dog. I asked Jerome whether that was the picture he drew. Jerome said he couldn’t remember. After four days, we got a message from the courier company confirming that the box had been dropped off the back of a Ferry at the pre-agreed coordinates somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. At this point we admittedly saw the flaw in our plan but I am 100 percent certain my drawing was identical to the one Jerome placed into the envelope.
Now, you can avoid facing the full force of my psychic ability by standing down from your position as the US president in the next 24 hours. If you do this, I will cease my metaphysical onslaught. If you fail to comply, I will use my powers to not only ensure that all my predictions come to pass, I will also bend every single spoon in the White House. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.
You have 24 hours to withdraw your claim to the White House and also to reimburse me for a four-day courier rental service, the cost of which is quite frankly astronomical.