Trumpie the lumpy grumpy Mammoth

And his adventure to see the world.


Trumpie was mad.

Trumpie was cross.

Trumpie tooted his long hairy trunk.

‘New York is no place for a lumpy grumpy Mammoth.

I was meant for bigger things.’

‘Perhaps you would not be so cross if you travelled across America, ‘suggested a funny flying dinosaur who just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. 


‘America?’ Questioned Trumpie, ‘America! I don’t want to see America, I want it all, I want the world.

I was meant for bigger things!’

The next day the friendly flying dinosaur bid Trumpie farewell as he started on his journey to see the world. But then at the last moment said, ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this, so stuff it – I’m coming with you!’

It was spring in America when Trumpie took off and the land was full of people from all over the world. And some of these people were strange. Some lived together but were not married. Some men, some women shared sexual relations. Trumpie shook his head and tooted his trunk in disgust – this doesn’t happen in New York he trumpeted.’

‘Hang on a minute mate,’ screeched the friendly dinosaur who had now transformed into a fearsome pterodactyl and was not being so friendly. ‘You can’t say things like that.’

‘I can say whatever I want,’ he replied defiantly, ‘because I am Trumpie the lumpy grumpy Mammoth and I was meant for bigger things.’

People across America soon began to get annoyed and upset with all Trumpie’s tooting, ‘toot toot, toot toot,’ he would sound off wherever he travelled.

‘Toot Toot this is the life for me,’ he said.

Trumpie travelled South, he loved it. Chicken Mac and Cheese, fried green tomatoes with dumplings. Mama’s fried chicken with grits. Trumpie grew fat. ‘This is living,’ he heralded, and I am going to make sure everyone in America, everyone in the entire world lives and eats like my friends in the South and Midwest.

Trumpie continued south. He stopped by a river for a drink and a rest, but as he bent down he noticed dozens of Mexican Walking Fish crossing the river, heading toward his friends back up North and to the West. The Mexican walking fish  looked creepy and there were so many of them. Trumpie became frightened. ‘We can’t be having this,’ he tooted, I’m going to build a wall to stop these buggers!’

A small kernel of doubt then twitched in the back of his mind, maybe the rest of the world is not all that it is cracked up to be!


Night time fell. I will get some peace at last, he thought. But Trumpie was wrong. Close to the river was a church. But it was no ordinary church, it had what looked to Trumpie like a big onion sitting on top of it. What kind of Church was that? And it didn’t have a spire with a cross on it – it had lots of thin spires with Christmas baubles! And the racket coming from within was horrendous, they certainly not singing hymn’s Trumpie thought in distaste.

‘We can’t be having this,’ Trumpie tooted loudly, above the din of prayers, ‘not on my watch. I’m Trumpie the lumpy grumpy Mammoth and I was meant for bigger things!’

Trumpie looked skyward and shook his fists at the pterodactyl – ‘stop  throwing things at me, If one of your messy bombs lands on my hairy head, your going to be in big trouble Mrs. You should be throwing those bombs at the people over there – the racket rakers and the rabble rousers.’

Trumpie continued on his journey and was greeted warmly in most places he travelled to. He felt great and felt great about himself. Sometimes though people told him to stop tooting his horn, and that what he was tooting wasn’t right, or didn’t make sense. But Trumpie didn’t mind he just tooted louder, ‘this is the life for me!’

Trumpie came to an ocean, it was immense, ‘what’s over there?’ He asked a tall good looking woman in her bikini, in his deepest voice.

‘It’s the rest of the world,’ she answered smiling.

‘It looks like a bloody long way away to me,’ Trumpie replied. ‘So how many people live in the rest of the world, and are they all like us?

‘I don’t know,’ said the model, ‘people only take photo’s of me, so I’m not that clever, but no I don’t think they are like us. I think they are completely different.’

‘Then I think I will just ignore them,’ mused Trumpie, ‘after all I can’t even see the rest of the world, so I’ll pretend it isn’t there. I think America will be big enough to me.

So anyway, honey, what are you doing after your photo shoot; you wanna come back to New York? Because I’m weary of all this travel, and my journey has taught me that there are some real freaks in the world and that’s frightening. And I’ve also discovered that New York really is big enough for me.’

Note: This post  was inspired by current events in the States and is of course a rip off of a wonderful Little Golden Book ‘Scruffy the Tug Boat and his adventures down the river,’ written by Gertrude Crampton and illustrated by Tibor Gergely.

This was one of my favourite books as a child and I still love it today.

And if you like that – then check this out from one of my favourite bands.


Kia Ora Roly



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