Michael Wolff’s Fire and Fury intimately described how the 45th US president spends his ‘executive time’ in the White House. Could our intrepid reporter walk a mile in his shoes?

Donald Trump is usually in bed by 6.30pm, watching three television screens and eating cheeseburgers. He has a separate bedroom from his wife, Melania, and is obsessed with cleanliness. The president prefers to eat at McDonald’s and similar fast food restaurants because he has a fear of being poisoned. He spends his evenings phoning friends to chat, going to sleep late.

We know this, and more, thanks to Michael Wolff’s book Fire and Fury. Some of the book’s most intriguing revelations are those relating to Trump’s personal life – how the president of the United States actually spends his time, and who he spends it with. Fire and Fury reveals a lonely, bizarre existence. But there must be some attraction to this way of life. I decided to find out. I would live as Trump. For a bit.

Day one

Mimicking the life of a 71-year-old man who spends a large portion of his time in bed eating junk food is a daunting task. I spend Sunday getting my apartment Trump-ready. According to Fire and Fury, when Trump moved into the White House he asked for two extra televisions to be installed in his bedroom, so he could have three channels playing at once. I cobble together three screens. There is a TV playing Fox News – Trump’s favourite. The president professes to hate CNN and MSNBC, but he professes it with a level of knowledge that suggests he watches both channels, so they are playing on a desktop computer and my laptop.



At 6.30pm, I get into bed. Trump is usually in bed by that time, Wolff wrote, “with a cheeseburger, watching his three screens and making phone calls” to friends. I don’t usually talk to my friends on the phone. But after an hour in bed, with only a rightwing news channel for company, I am quite bored. I call my best friend, Ruth. She doesn’t answer. I call her again. She still doesn’t answer. I leave her a message saying I’m calling to “catch up”. Ruth texts me an hour later. It says: “What do you want you little bitch?” I don’t phone her again.

I have more joy with my friend Jono. He answers on the second call. That’s good because I’ve been working on channelling Trump’s style of conversation. It’s no secret that Trump likes to brag about himself. And repeat himself. Fire and Fury says that this extends to private conversation. There is a minor problem. I haven’t really got that much to brag about.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘My friend hangs up on me.’ Photograph: Joshua Bright/The Guardian

Trump might have inherited his fortune from his father, but he is undeniably a very wealthy man. And he was a TV show host. And he is president. I am none of those things. But then I’ve yet to bankrupt a single company, let alone four. And while the nation is yet to be polled on how they think I’m performing, I’m pretty sure my approval ratings wouldn’t be as bad as Trump’s.

“You know I’ve never been declared bankrupt?” I ask Jono. He asks what I want. “I’d say my approval ratings are fairly positive, right?” Jono disagrees. We talk for a bit about a mutual friend who recently got married. I try to segue back to my financial stability. He threatens to hang up. I ask Jono if he thinks the American public has faith in me. He does hang up.

Day two

As a single person, it’s easy to replicate Trump’s relationship with his wife, Melania. Apparently, they don’t have one. They sleep in separate bedrooms and Wolff reckons they can go days without seeing each other.



Within the domestic sphere, Trump is said to be extremely particular. In his early days in the White House, he tried to fit a lock on his bedroom door, but the Secret Service wouldn’t allow it. No one is allowed to touch his belongings. Especially his toothbrush. If he throws a shirt on the floor, the White House cleaning staff are not allowed to pick it up.

Trump also doesn’t like people removing his bed sheets. When the time comes for a bedding change, he strips the bed himself and throws the sheets on the floor. I follow his lead and take the sheets off my bed, dumping them on the floor. I only have one set of sheets. I put them back on the bed.

The day starts with a nice little lift. Axios has reported that Trump doesn’t do very much work. It seems he spends 8am to 11am engaged in “executive time”, which means spending time in the residential part of the White House “watching TV, making phone calls and tweeting”.

I send my boss a message on Gchat. I shall be in late today because I am engaged in executive time, I tell him. He wants to know what executive time is. I tell him I’m going to be watching TV and phoning my friends. It doesn’t go over well.

At 11am, executive time is over. I go to work for a bit. I don’t do very much. Pretending to be president is easy.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Adam enjoys some executive time. Photograph: Joshua Bright/The Guardian

On the way home, I stop in at McDonald’s. It was already public knowledge that it is Trump’s favourite. Thanks to Fire and Fury, we know that is because he has a “longtime fear of being poisoned”. I used to work at McDonald’s. I have no problem with eating at McDonald’s. I do have a problem with what Trump eats at McDonald’s. According to his former campaign manager Corey Lewandowski, Trump’s regular order is two Big Macs, two Filet-O-Fish and a chocolate milkshake.

I order it all and, back home, I take it to bed. The first Big Mac goes down easily. Next I take a bite out of the Filet-O-Fish. I must have made hundreds of Filet-O-Fish, but I’ve never tried one. It’s disgusting. It puts me right off my second Big Mac. I give the rest of the food to my neighbour. I drink the milkshake. I will later wake up with severe heartburn.

Dinner complete, I lie back and idly watch Fox News. Sean Hannity is upset about something. He really does have an angry face.

I’m running out of people to call. I’ve recently been texting a woman I met on a dating app. I call her. I tell her I’m in bed watching Fox News, having just eaten a load of McDonald’s burgers. She says she’s vegan. I don’t bring up my financial solvency.

Day three

Trump finished work at 4.14pm today, according to the White House’s pool reporter. I finish early too. I head home. My apartment smells like beef and tartar sauce.



It’s only 5pm when I get back, and I don’t feel ready for bed and burgers. Thankfully, the Trump presidency isn’t only about those things. Wolff writes that Trump has a bizarre hair construction routine – which isn’t necessarily news – but also reveals that he dyes his hair. Apparently, it is Trump’s impatience that leads to his hair’s unique orange hue. He won’t sit still long enough for the Just for Men dye to take effect.

Pleased to have something to do, I head out and buy two different types of Just for Men: one blond, one brown. Back home, I decide against the blond. I’m committed to strong, independent journalism, but I don’t want to walk around with orange hair for the next two months.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Blond or brunette? Photograph: Joshua Bright/The Guardian

The brown dye goes on easily. Some of it gets on my face and won’t come off for another three days, but my hair does look darker. Although, given I’m alone in my apartment, it’s hard to get an accurate read on my appearance.

I take my new hair to McDonald’s and decide to eat in. It gives me a chance to look up the amount of calories in Trump’s order. It’s 2,430.

I still can’t get used to the Filet-O-Fish. I give one to someone outside. Back home, I notice that the diet is beginning to take its toll. I hope the White House has adequate plumbing.

I usually play soccer on Tuesdays. But instead, it’s a third night in bed. Earlier, Trump held a meeting with Republicans and Democrats, inviting in TV cameras, and it is dominating my three screens. During the meeting, Trump suggested that Dreamers – young, undocumented immigrants who came to the US as children – should unconditionally be allowed to stay in the country. Later, he changed his mind and said they could stay, but only if a wall was erected along the Mexico border.

CNN is pointing out the discrepancy. The president’s conflicting messages seem particularly pertinent, the CNN host says, because of questions Fire and Fury raised about Trump’s mental health. On Fox News, host Tucker Carlson thinks the meeting was a masterstroke by the president.

I’m too full of meat and cheese to pay much attention. I fall asleep.

Day four

After executive time, I go out and buy a big red tie. Today I will be dressing like the president. I tie it really long and it dangles awkwardly around my crotch.

I decide to play golf. It will be the first physical activity I’ve engaged in since assuming the Trump lifestyle. Despite criticising Barack Obama for playing golf while president, Trump has reportedly played golf on 21% of his days in office.

Over the holidays, Trump played at the Trump International Golf Club in West Palm Beach, Florida, but usually he likes to play at his club in New Jersey. I ring the club. I tell them I fancy a couple of holes. Can I come and play this afternoon?

“No. We’re closed for winter,” says the woman on the end of the phone. She adds that, in any case, Bedminster is a “membership course”. I ask how much it costs to join. The woman puts me through to the membership department. No one answers. Later, I look it up online. Membership is $300,000 (£218,000). I decide not to join.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘It is quite difficult to play golf in a suit.’ Photograph: Joshua Bright/The Guardian

By now, I really want to play golf. I don’t usually play, but the opportunity to do some exercise, however mild, is too good to miss. There is a driving range outside Manhattan that is open. I head there. When I arrive, I realise that in my haste to hit some balls, I’ve not packed any sports clothes. I’m wearing my suit and big tie.

I decide to play anyway. But I soon realise it is quite difficult to play golf in a suit. Especially a slim-fitting suit. I make a mental note. Maybe that’s why Trump goes for the big-shouldered 1990s look. The tie is a problem, too. It dangles over my hands. Still, it’s better than being in bed.

On the way home, I stop at McDonald’s. A man behind the counter recognises me and comments on the big tie. I don’t bring up Trump. He isn’t very popular in New York City. I cut my order to two Big Macs and a Diet Coke – another of the president’s favourite beverages. Earlier, I bought two boxes of Oreos. Trump likes Oreos.

I take the food to bed. It’s like groundhog day. I’ve gone right off Big Macs, but develop quite a taste for Oreos. My friend from the dating app tells me Oreos are vegan. I eat a lot of Oreos.

Day five

Executive time ran long this morning. Maybe it’s the burgers, maybe it’s the increasing amount of time I’m spending in bed, but I’m exhausted. I get up at 11.30am.



My apartment looks like the aftermath of a child’s birthday party. McDonald’s bags and boxes are strewn about the floor. The remaining Oreos are at the bottom of the bed, and there is a half-drunk chocolate milkshake in the sink. It was a rough night. I wonder if this is why Trump doesn’t like anyone going in his room.

I get a Diet Coke from the fridge and think about what I’ve discovered over the past few days. I’ve learned that I don’t like Filet-O-Fish, obviously. And that no one wants to talk to me on the phone. And that Oreos don’t contain dairy.

But I’ve also had a glimpse into just how lonely Trump’s life must be. I almost feel sorry for him. According to Fire and Fury, Trump never wanted to be president. As the results came in on election night, he apparently “looked as if he had seen a ghost”.

I wonder if much has changed since that night. Trump’s routine doesn’t seem like that of someone who is enjoying life. It seems as if this structured, monotonous way of life is a way of feeling in control at a time when Trump’s presidency is running away from him.

But, ultimately, Trump is responsible for what his life has become. He is the one who ran for president. He is the one who has managed to turn much of the American public against him. He is the one who seems to have alienated his family.

Trump has made his bed – literally and figuratively – and now he has to lie in it. A lot.