AS a rule, world leaders, commanders-in-chief, and elder statesmen are often considered to be oblivious and indifferent to the concerns of “the small folk” who keep the world turning and the lights on.

Yet, although it may be tempting to believe that the narcissistic, the power hungry, and those who refer to themselves as “the elite” tend to view the “little people” as a bundled and botched mass, US President Donald Trump does not!

At least according to semi-professional paranormal investigator Johnny Turnip.

“I’ve known for a long time that Trump was involved with the leprechauns, but I had no idea how deep-rooted and insidious the relationship was!

“The President is up to his knees in leprechauns, and that’s bad news for the free world, I can tell you!” Explained Turnip.

“I knew straight away when he sent a messenger warning me to get the hell out of the States because his leprechaun overlords were getting restless, that the so-called tough guy was in the little bastards’ pockets! But it’ll take more than a few leprechauns and their orange puppet to deter me and the boys from healing the world with fairy gold.”

Turnip told the Chronicle that after a chap pretending to be Abraham Lincoln gave him the lowdown that Trump had eyes on him and was building a file on his activities, he, Big Tony and Puerto Rico Paul hot-footed it out of the New York alleyway where they had been chewing the fat with the Abe fella and a guy who insisted he was Bob Dylan.

“Those guys had served a noble purpose in our quest but it was time for them to crawl back under whatever rock they came from and leave the three musketeers to find the gold and save the world,” explained Turnip, who added, “They were kind of cramping our style so I was glad to shake them off and reclaim the city. Not that we knew where we were heading. All I had to go on when it came to finding Potato Creek Johnny’s fabled pot of fairy gold was the words of the Oracle, who told me - ‘Head to the Plaza in Central Park South and ask for Angel Eyes. Tell him the tortoise sent you, and that’ll get you an audience.’

“Well, I had no idea where we currently were in the Big Apple, but that was what the yellow cabs were for. Just as I hailed one down, a guy in a long overcoat and a trilby kind of bumped into me and announced in that threatening way the mobsters in films do, ‘Mr Johnny Turnip?’

“‘Who wants to know?’ I said.

“He just shook his head and replied, ‘Mr Trump said hello!’ And with that, he reached into his pocket and as Big Tony and Puerto Rico Paul tensed, I swear to Christ I thought he was going to pull out a Smith & Wesson and BOOM! This Turnip would be cooked.

“But he just handed me a small and crumpled bright green top hat and said, “Mr Trump wanted you to have this and quit meddling with the affairs of the little folk. The shamrock boys don’t take too kindly to mortals who go looking for fairy gold to play about with. You keep sticking your nose in affairs you got no business in, then Greensleeves and a few of the shamrock boys gonna visit you personally and take care of the fairy threat once and for all.’

“‘Who the hell is Greensleeves!’ Roared Puerto Rico Paul. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was finding the name hysterically funny.

“‘The mobster guy turned in Paul’s directions, smirked, spat out something unpleasant, and said, ‘Greensleeves is the guy you don’t wanna meet. He’s the boss man down there in Leper Land, and even Mr President gives him his dues. He’s the guy who calls, and trust me, you limey son of a syphilis riddled bitch. You don’t want to be in when he does.’

“‘Big guy for a leprechaun is he?’ Mocked Paul. ‘What is he, pushing four feet, two?’ Before adding for effect, ‘In his heels?’

“‘Lap it up, buttercup!’ Said the mobster who was giving me big Joe Pesci vibes. ‘Will see who’s laughing when Greensleeves’ axe has finished swinging and he’s making a pretty little necklace out of your goddamned guts.’

“‘Bit harsh!’ I said. ‘Still, I’d be angry if I had to walk around with a bushy beard and was named after a lame medieval song.’

“‘You goddamned Brits! It’s like trying to train a dumb dog that just won’t be taught’ Said the mobster guy.

“Beaming at the compliment, Big Tony chose that moment to announce, ‘Let Greensleeves and his army of little dickheads come! We’ll do them like the poxy firm of posers they are. I fear no man born of woman or leprechaun born of…’

“As we watched Big Tony undertake severe mental gymnastics as he struggled to work out if leprechaun was a gender neutral term and if there was a female pronoun he needed to use, Puerto Rico Paul helpfully added, ‘Unicorn?’

“‘Don’t be an idiot, Paul.’ I said. ‘Unicorns don’t give birth to leprechauns. Everyone knows they give birth to rainbows. No! Leprechauns just make other leprechauns. There’s no magic involved. Just science. Like something you’d see in a petri dish.’

“‘What the hell is the point in all of this!’ Screamed the mobster dude like he wanted to stab me in the eye with a pen.

“‘The point is my friend.’ I said firmly. 'Big Tony was delivering a battle insult, and he lost his train of thought because, being a big-hearted guy, he didn’t want to offend anyone in this overtly sensitive age. What he meant to say was he fears no man born of woman or leprechaun reproduced by leprechaun. Happy now!’

“The mobster guy just looked at us like we were seven shades of lunacy and said, ‘You guys are crazy! Even a bullet would be afraid to get stuck in your head. I’m outta here!’

“And with that, he returned to wherever low-rent mafia-type wise guys spend their time when not making threats. Probably the pub, or the bar as they laughably call it this side of the pond.

“‘Well, gentlemen!’ I said after he had left. ‘Both the President of the United States and all his merry men are now against us. As is every alcoholic, bad-tempered, bushy-bearded, squinty-eyed little bastard this side of the fairy realms. But what’s new? And do we care?’

“‘No!’ Roared Big Tony and Puerto Rico Paul as they sensed one of my epic speeches coming on.

“Together we stand, divided we fall!’ I announced solemnly, like I was the first one in the world to say it. As I beat my chest and the boys followed suit, I said, ‘Us three, us merry three of ne’er-do-wells. Is there not a ceiling we cannot smash? A mountain we cannot climb? A night we cannot endure? A day we cannot break? As long as we stand fast and stand well, who can conquer us? Who can tear apart the ties that bind and the centre that holds?’

“As we embraced one another and screamed wordlessly at the heavens in that sort of triumphant Celtic resistance that knows no reason or rhyme, we didn’t notice the little cloaked figures creeping up behind us before it was too late.”

The Manifest Trials And Tribulations Of Johnny Turnip is now available on Amazon.