The Hand of Daisy? Or the Hand of the Danish Taxpayer?
So, on the last day of El Grande Tour de Mexico by the Saviour of Little Brown People and her husband thinggie, Madam drugged Fred for his business meeting at which he could barely stay awake, took the lead in speech giving, scared a poor little girl, and posed holding her Danish Government-mandated bouquet of posies with one hand seemingly luring Fred back into the fold, and another hand seemingly ready to pluck Mary back up into the Mother Ship to Planet Sociopathic Narcissist from whence she came.
Compare to the photos of the heir to the Spanish throne and his wife visiting Hispanic California the same day. Two elegantly dressed but non-flashy professionals, no lady-in-waiting, no mandated floral bouquets handed to the lady by scared children, no little paper Spanish flags being waved by bussed in school children, just two people working hard and seriously as dignified representatives of Spain, noble enough to allow others to be spotlighted, and smart and meaningful enough to get the CEO of Google to come meet with you and show off his company and latest products. Larry Page would NEVER leave his office for Derf or Yrma, the two Danish duds. Even Maz senses it not so deep down. Here on the last day in Mexico she wore the same Ralph Lauren dress she accessorised with Jackie O bug-eye sunnies, and matching hat, gloves, and shoes that wouldn't even stay on her bunioned feet because she refuses to wear stockings, but this time the outfit was considerably dressed down.
"Somebody help me!"