"I'm sorry to wake you, Mr Prime Minister, but there's been a development overnight," says Malcolm Turnbull's acting chief of staff (waterside mansion branch). "Mr Trump's people have leaked your conversation with the President."
Malcolm Turnbull blinks and shakes his head, trying to rid himself of a disturbing dream involving Eric Abetz and the Mardi Gras.
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My most unpleasant call: Trump
A transcript of the infamous first call between PM Malcolm Turnbull and US President Donald Trump has been leaked, revealing more details about the tense exchange.
"What conversation?" the Prime Minister inquires.
"The one where you promised to send Mr Trump future Nobel Peace Prize geniuses and in return you'd take to Australia what you described as a number of very unattractive Americans."
"I never said any such thing!"
"Thirty one of them, apparently. We may need to talk about that, by the way. I don't believe that's been made awfully public up to this point. And he wanted to know why you kept Nobel Peace Prize candidates locked in prison."
"Lucy! Have the butler bring me a coffee. Strong one!"
"On the bright side, Mr Trump paid you a wonderful compliment."
![According to Malcolm Turnbull's advisers, he argue strongly in favour of free trade and a rules-based order in a ...](http://web.archive.org./web/20170805155416im_/https://www.fairfaxstatic.com.au/content/dam/images/g/x/3/b/o/o/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.gxp4r7.png/1501815054750.jpg)
"Really?"
"Yes. He said you were worse than he was. He said you made him look like a dope."
![Mr Turnbull talks with Mr Trump last month.](http://web.archive.org./web/20170805155416im_/https://www.fairfaxstatic.com.au/content/dam/images/g/x/7/8/5/c/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.gxp4r7.png/1501815054750.jpg)
"I did? Could we work a few lines for the media on that?"
"We could, I'm sure. But the media might start asking about why you told Mr Trump that actually, the deal meant he didn't have to take anyone at all if he didn't want to."
"I didn't say that!"
"If I may, Prime Minister, I will read you a small section. This is you speaking: 'This is a big deal. It is really, really important to us that we maintain it. It does not oblige you to take one person that you do not want.' I believe that is described in diplomatic language as a get-out-of-jail-free card."
"But I didn't mean it that way. I want to get these problems out of jail. Thousands of them. And off to Detroit or Mar-a-Lago or somewhere!"
"The difficulty, Prime Minister, is that when Mr Trump says 'suppose I vet them closely and I do not take any?', you reply, 'That is the point I'm trying to make.' It seems, how might I say it … to leave the door open, or firmly closed, I suppose."
"Lucy! Where's that coffee? And splash a slug of single malt in it, will you? God."
"Coming, dear. I'm just reading a most extraordinary script that has you talking to Donald Trump. I think it will make a wonderful play. Should we invest in it?"
"It's not a bloody script! It's a recording of that first phone call, months ago."
"Oh, really dear? The one where you said you'd taught Mr Trump the real meaning of the art of the deal?"
"Well, I did, didn't I?"
"You could say that, I suppose. You had to grovel a bit, though. All that stuff about how this deal would make him look like a man who keeps his commitments."
"That was after he said I'd brokered many a stupid deal in business. I wanted to punch him through the phone, but in business, it's better to butter up your co-dealer."
"Yes, dear. Though I think you used the word 'deal' a tiny bit much. These are people's lives you're bartering, remember."
"They came by boat, Lucy. I told Donald that. If they'd come any other way, we'd have had them in our community in a flash. Economic refugees. Probably half of them would be worth doing business with. But you can't have people coming by boat. Not to Australia. We're an island."
"Prime Minister," says the acting chief of staff (mansion branch). "We really should work on some talking points. Sure to be questions asked."
"Obviously," snarls Turnbull. "Where's my phone. I'll tweet it out straight away."
The chief of staff looks on as the prime ministerial fingers fly over the keyboard.
"FAKE NEWS!!!!!" The screen reads. The PM hits "send" and looks very pleased with himself.