The president’s plane took off from Paris. He was going home. Before reaching the Atlantic, there was a huge explosion of lightning in the sky like Armageddon. It struck the plane, a wing caught fire, smoke was billowing everywhere.

            ‘Parachute! Parachute!’ the captain shouted. ‘Prepare the president for emergency exit.’

Two of the crew bundled him out of the toilet where he’d been tweeting.

‘Hey, what about my pants?’

‘Strap this on!’ one guy shouted.

‘Open exit door!’ said the second.

‘Release!’

The president, falling to earth, trouserless, looked up at the plane wreathed in fire. Next thing he knew his parachute was snagged on top of a metal tower, the heavens still electrically charged with tongues of lightning.