I merely had a nice chat with an ex-employee while never enquiring into her hellish situation, Trump explains

DONALD Trump has told the media the hours he spent with former employee and sex-trafficking victim Virginia Giuffre were a nice catch-up and nothing more.

An email from the late Jeffrey Epstein, who expired in prison from shame, states that Trump spent several hours at Epstein’s house with a girl, but the president has explained it as no more than a lengthy chat.

White House spokesman Karoline Leavitt said: “This was a perfectly innocent conversation between a caring boss who unexpectedly bumped into an ex-employee at a millionaire friend’s house. It shows he’s a good person.

“Conversing for many hours with a trainee masseuse who left your employ when she was 17 might seem awkward to you, but you’re not Trump. You’re not possessed of his natural warmth and interest in others.

“But it was all small talk, for all those hours. At no point did she reach out to this powerful man and ask to be rescued from the monsters who held her captive, because it didn’t come up. Instead they discussed normal stuff like the weather and American Idol.

“They parted with a cheery wave and he never thought about her ever again, though he made sure these particular memories remained sharp in case he should have need of them as an alibi in the future.”

Nathan Muir of Hitchin said: “I had to chat to a dude I once worked with on the train to King’s Cross last week. It was an excruciating half-hour and we didn’t have a 29-year age gap.”

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My dream is to meet a pissed, middle-aged British woman. By Timothée Chalamet

WHATEVER happens with Kylie, I will always regret not following my heart and dating a woman who is British, middle-aged and drinks too much. And now, at 29, I fear it may be too late.

All my life I’ve felt pressured into dating famous beauties like Lily-Rose Depp and Eiza Gonzalez, but deep down I wanted to be with a 40-something British woman who says things like: ‘Looks like it’s Prosecco o’clock!’ Her being slightly overweight would be the icing on the cake.

Many times when filming in England I watched these unattainable nymphs from a distance, my heart wracked by yearning as I stood outside Spoons. But how could I go into a pub and expect that middle-aged women would want to sleep with me? It was ridiculous.

I’ve even invented an imaginary British partner, ‘Ange’. We have a magical fantasy life together: trips to the big Asda in Stafford, watching repeats of Grand Designs, her telling me about her sister’s problems with her combi boiler. But what are my chances of meeting a woman like that? 

There are just too many obstacles to finding a real-life Ange. Her friends might not like me. She’d be stuck in a luxury hotel all day while I was filming in exotic locations. I know little about British culture, and what woman would want a man who couldn’t talk at length about the Premier League?

You’ve probably guessed this emotional turmoil is the cause of my problems with Kylie. It’s not her fault, and she’s an attractive 28-year-old woman. But is she always hassling me to put out the wheelie bin? Has she got pain-in-the-arse teenage children from a previous marriage? Is she always shitfaced on Blossom Hill? No, no and no. 

Will I ever find the happiness I crave? I’ve accepted it may never happen. But if any middle-aged British women are reading this, I am not too proud to be a sympathy shag.