Brash, racist and functionally illiterate, Donald Trump is an American icon. His current presidential “campaign” has captured the media spotlight, and his recent rants (against Mexicans, war heroes and common sense) have alienated his business partners and vaulted him to the top of Republican primary polls.
We can be forgiven for thinking we know everything about The Donald – his reality show, his public love affair with some sort of head ferret, and his real estate empire, built with his own two hands from nothing more than a dream and his father’s real estate empire – but new revelations, secret for decades, are set to upend everything we know about America’s unlanced boil.
In the coming weeks, Trump will reveal himself to be esteemed English actor and performance artist Nigel Bettencourt, in a performance that has spanned decades.
“I came up with Trump in the late 1970s,” says Bettencourt. “I would style my hair like a comb-over, strut around on my knees and berate strangers for being poor. I still think of that as his essence – his tiny, angry essence.”
After moving to New York to pursue a theatrical career, Bettencourt found himself “Trumping” at parties – until people started mistaking the character for a real tycoon. “That’s when I knew he could have a life of his own.”
And what a life it’s been: after securing the perfect wig (“Nothing felt right, until we shaved the underside of that diseased corgi”), Bettencourt grew more and more comfortable in his new, scaly skin, gradually cementing his place as America’s racist uncle.
A far cry from his famous alter-ego, Bettencourt holds post-graduate degrees from Oxford and Cambridge, and sports a full head of jet-black hair. He is described as a kind, quiet and thoughtful man who speaks seven languages and spends his spare time rehabilitating stray cats.
“When I started, I was sure I would be found out. I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” As the years passed, however, and Trump’s star continued to rise, Bettencourt began taking greater risks with the character:
“I definitely thought the first bankruptcy [Trump has declared bankruptcy four times] would be the end of him – but no one batted an eye. So I introduced casual xenophobia – people noticed, but no one cared.”
By this point, the bloom had worn off the rat, and Trump’s persona started to take a toll on Bettencourt.
“I couldn’t shake the accent,” he recalls, “and spewing bile all day gets to you. I told a little girl she was an ugly idiot who was ruining America. That’s when I knew I needed a new project.”
His inspiration came from a famous, if unexpected source: “Sasha Baron Cohen and I had worked on Borat together. He suggested a new character, someone we could run for office. So we wrote a sad little rich boy throwing around daddy’s money, and ran him for city council.”
“Donald Trump is my meal ticket, but I’ll always have a soft spot for playing Rob Ford.”
Bettencourt calls Ford’s rise to power and his successful mayoral campaign “a small, meaty role – like an off-Broadway play.”
Beside makeup and wardrobe, Bettencourt used a simple ritual to “find” the character. “Right before I get out there, I hold my breath and spin around in a circle – five times clockwise, and five times counter-clockwise,” he said, adding, “Ford is just a shorter, wider, dizzier Trump.”
Ford’s epic implosion gave Bettencourt the push he needed to run Trump for office. “It was supposed to shatter the façade. Who could possibly believe Trump as a candidate?”
But we did, of course, a gullibility that eventually convinced Bettencourt to give up the role, once and for all.
“I had a crisis of conscience,” he admits. “Trump is the frontrunner, his Super PAC is well-financed by racists and late-night talk show hosts. Nothing he can say would make us ignore him. The joke’s on me.”
Perhaps most tantalizing is Bettencourt’s revelation that he’s not alone. “At least four other presidential candidates are actors,” he confides. “Bet you can’t guess who.”