In a development that has shocked absolutely no one with a functioning cerebral cortex, Donald Trump’s latest health check has been dismissed by UK medical experts as a ‘PR exercise’ more concerned with bunting than blood pressure. The former president, whose physique resembles a badly stuffed sofa, released a letter from his doctor claiming he was in ‘excellent health’ and had ‘cognitive abilities far above average’. This is the same man who once suggested injecting bleach might cure COVID-19, so forgive the British medical establishment for raising a sceptical eyebrow over their afternoon tea.
Let us dissect this farce with the precision of a surgeon removing a tumour of bullshit. The letter, penned by Dr Bruce Aronwald, is a masterpiece of Orwellian doublespeak. It boasts that Trump’s ‘physical exams were exceptional’ and his ‘cognitive exams were exceptional’. But here’s the rub: the letter provides no specific data, no test results, no numbers. It’s like a restaurant claiming their food is delicious but refusing to show you a menu. Alongside the letter, a video showed Trump doing a series of exercises that appeared to be a cross between a senior citizen’s tai chi class and a man trying to swat a wasp. He lifted a chair, threw a ball, and did some ‘cognitive tests’ that involved drawing a clock and remembering a list of words. To the average Briton, this looks less like a health assessment and more like a Blue Peter badge audition.
UK medical experts were quick to pour cold water on this charade. Dr Richard Pebody, a consultant in public health, told the BBC: ‘Without transparent, objective data, these claims are about as reliable as a politician’s promise. It’s a PR exercise, not a health check.’ Indeed, the NHS would demand blood tests, ECG results, and a full psychiatric evaluation before declaring anyone ‘exceptional’. But Trump operates in a world where truth is optional and hyperbole is the default setting.
This is the man who, during his presidency, was diagnosed with COVID-19, hospitalised, and treated with experimental drugs. Yet he insists he’s in the peak of physical condition. It’s as absurd as a burned-out pub claiming it’s Michelin-starred. The British public, accustomed to their leaders looking vaguely human and occasionally ill, find this relentless self-puffery both exhausting and hilarious. We breed our leaders to be grey, bland, and prone to the occasional bout of flu. Trump, with his spray tan and comb-over, is a caricature of vitality, a walking, talking Frankenstein of spin.
But let us not forget the context. Trump is facing multiple legal cases, a potential prison sentence, and the ignominy of having lost the election to a man who forgets where he is. This health check is a desperate attempt to project strength, to remind the world that he’s still a viable candidate. It’s the political equivalent of a man whistling in the dark to convince himself he’s not scared. And the British medical community, with their stiff upper lips and love of data, are having none of it.
In the end, this is a story about the clash of two cultures. America, where a health check is a Broadway show, and Britain, where a health check is a grim reality of waiting lists and apologetic doctors. Trump’s ‘exceptional’ health is a fiction so transparent it would make a reality TV show blush. So let us raise a glass of gin, preferably not from a bottle labelled ‘Excellent Health’, and toast the spectacle. The show must go on, even if the star is ailing.
