The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man

USA, Sweden

While Allan and Julius used part of the tip money to kit themselves out and most of the rest to take the bus to Newark airport, President Trump sat in the clubhouse at the golf course, feeling a frustration he couldn’t put into words.

What was that meeting he had suffered through? Had Minister for Foreign Affairs Wallström sat in the UN building sneering at him while old man Karlsson babbled away? Maybe that was what had happened. That was definitely what had happened. Yes, it was.

And Karlsson himself. Who on earth was he? Talking about goat’s milk with the President of the United States? In front of the hysterically sneering, almost mockingly laughing Minister Wallström?

Not to mention what had happened next.

The president was seething. The Communist had questioned his impulse control. He should have walloped him in the head with his golf club. Trump mused, self-critically, that now and then he went too far in his attempts to arrive at a compromise in every situation.

What should he do now? The seething went on. The president opened his laptop and signed into Twitter.

Three minutes later, he had ridiculed a television host, insulted a head of state, threatened to fire one of his own cabinet members, and declared that his declining approval numbers had been made up by insert-the-newspaper-of-your-choosing.

He felt better.

Minister for Foreign Affairs Wallström had kept her promise: Messrs Karlsson and Jonsson were booked in business-class seats to Stockholm that very evening.

‘Any bags to check?’ asked the woman at the check-in counter.

‘No, thank you,’ said Allan.

‘Just carry-ons?’

‘We just gave our carry-on away.’

Their journey to the motherland was a pleasant experience. It began even before the plane took off, when Allan and Julius were offered something to drink.

‘Champagne? Juice?’ said the flight attendant.

‘Yes, please,’ said Allan. ‘And no, thanks.’

‘Same here, please,’ said Julius.

Later came a three-course dinner (not that the old men were hungry, but free was free) and if you pushed the right button after dessert you could lie down without even having to go to bed first.

‘What will they think of next?’ said Allan.

‘Mm-hmm,’ said Julius, who had already covered himself with a blanket.

‘Shall I read aloud to you from the tablet?’

‘Not unless you want me to take it away and throw it out of the window.’