Melania Trump walked away from her husband, leaving him to wave at the cameras by himself. Video / ABC News
For political ambitions that were nurtured on The Apprentice, executed with all the shallow bombast and familial closeness of The Kardashians, and so prone to tantrums, plot twists and surprise evictions that it made Big Brother look pedestrian, it was only right that the Trump presidency ended like a reality show this week.
From the reluctant White House departure to the rambling, helicopter-side farewell speech, the weeping loved ones to the jarring YMCA outro, it was all so choreographed, and all so made-for-TV. You half expected Davina McCall to pop up, warn them not to swear, then introduce a round-up of Trump's best/worst bits. Even Tiffany's engagement to Michael Boulos, with a $1.5 million diamond ring and announced on the family's last full day in the White House, had the air of loose ends being tied up for the minor characters.
Over the past four years, we have come to know the Trump family not as what they ostensibly were – the leader of the free world, the first lady, their children and children's partners, some of whom were also presidential advisers – but as a cast of characters in an addictive fly-on-the-wall show.
There was Don, the erratic, tempestuous leader of the family firm. Melania, the beautiful but taciturn stepmother. There was Ivanka, the daddy's girl with a spectral husband who knew how to sweet talk the boss. There was Don Jr, forever in search of paternal approval; Eric, just happy to be there; Tiffany, constantly frustrated at never getting her own storyline; and Barron, who producers wisely kept away from public scrutiny.
Few could have been surprised when Donald Snr, during the final episode at Joint Base Andrews on Wednesday, wrapped things up with a cliffhanger. "Goodbye, we love you," he said, with Melania, in funereal black, beside him. Then the teaser: "We will be back, in some form."
A reality show could be a smart career move for the extended Trump clan. Photo / Getty Images
What did he mean? A return in 2024? Before? With a new cast? With a podcast? As the world speculated, it might just be that the Trump family's next move is, in fact, the most obvious one: they'll launch the reality TV series they were always destined for.
It's easy to see the argument from their side. Like the Kardashians, the Osbournes, and even the "F****** Fulfords" before them, the Trumps could build a new brand by allowing cameras into their homes, capturing the banality of their domestic lives as they struggle to reassimilate into society in Florida.
Donald and Melania are set to stay at Mar-a-Lago, while Ivanka, who once showed a camera crew around her home for a documentary about inherited wealth called Born Rich, has bought a plot of land with Jared on nearby Indian Creek Island. And Tiffany is "actively looking" for a house in Miami Beach.
Think about it. A primetime TV show would keep them in the public eye while they work out their next political move, give Donald the platform he's been denied by most social media sites, and leverage hundreds of millions of dollars – which they may need, if certain lawsuits don't go their way.
Trump, for one, sounds as if he's tempted. "In the past two weeks, the people familiar with the matter note, Trump has casually slipped into conversation lines such as, "How would you like to see The Apprentice come back?" and "Remember The Apprentice?"' the Daily Beast reported last month.
Having reportedly profited to the tune of $197m over 16 years from playing the Suralan role in the US version of The Apprentice, as well as generating a further estimated $230m from the fame the franchise gave him, it must be food for thought. So must getting the rest of the family involved: the Kardashians reportedly earned $150m for the final five series of their show, while Sharon Osbourne apparently demanded $20m salaries, a new home, expenses, and dog therapy bills from MTV when The Osbournes took off.
Trump, remember, is a man who's never troubled himself with realistic estimates of his own popularity, so he must look at the kind of deals Netflix has struck with the Obamas and Sussexes, and assume he can do much, much better.
Former President Donald Trump and Melania Trump wave as they disembark from their final flight on Air Force One at Palm Beach International Airport. Photo / AP
"I made all that money from The Apprentice, which people loved, they said it was one of the greatest shows they've ever seen," his thinking might go. "Imagine how popular 'Keeping Up With The Trumps' could be…"
Not for the first time he might be wrong, according to Claire Enders, the founder of UK media analysts Enders Analysis.
"There is no platform that would offer a financial inducement [to the Trumps], apart from an obscure one we don't know about yet," she says.
"There are a few giant cash machines in the world, and we know what they're called: Amazon, Apple, Facebook, Netflix. Trump isn't going to get a $100m deal from a broadcaster... "
And yet. He does have the ability to be morbidly fascinating, and has a God-given ability to confound the world. Imagine channel hopping and stumbling upon Go Trump In The Night, a series about the family attempting to live a normal life under the cover of darkness. Or Ivanka Says Thank Her, following the former first daughter as she demands gratitude from the American people. Or Tiff I Could Turn Back Time, a spin-off series in which Tiffany tries to erase her past. You'd watch them all. Alas, these things may never be seen.
"I knew the Trumps in the 1980s," Enders, the daughter of a US diplomat under Nixon and Reagan, adds. "They're the most ridiculous people. They're very secretive, they behave as if they are very special people. They will become recluses, they will see each other, with a tiny court. But I really don't think they will be able to raise any money."
The Jim Royle of the family. There he'd sit, in his armchair, incipient gut breaking out from his vest, flitting between channels and shouting incoherently. In one scene he'd frustratingly stab at the arm of the chair, before remembering the Diet Coke button was at the White House, then turn to the tall man sitting next to him. "Who the hell are you?" he'd yell. "I'm Eric, Dad," would come the response. "Get me a Diet Coke, Erin, I have many important meetings and need to work late into the night."
Mel
Melania would briefly consider extending her brand and auditioning for the new Sex and the City series, but decide to just return to modelling. We'd watch as she struggles with industry developments since her day, such as occasional smiling, and see it dawn on her that it might be quite hard work. Eventually she will decide to hire her doppelgangers and send them instead.
Javanka
Taking inspiration from Kanye West's role in The Kardashians, Ivanka's husband Jared will appear in the series but say nothing, merely hovering in the corner of rooms and occasionally holding a child. Ivanka, meanwhile, will appear harmless in all footage involving other people, then unleash "I don't know if you heard but..." gossip hell aimed at every other member of the family whenever she's alone on camera.
As per his contract demands, Don Jr will be allotted five minutes per episode to simply rant into the camera about his chosen conspiracy theory. Eric, meanwhile, is mainly seen vigorously nodding at every word his father says, or just chasing dogs in the yard. He's happy.
Tiff
"They forgot me again!" would become a trending catchphrase on social media, as Tiffany's to-camera pieces so frequently involve her complaining that the family have all met up without her, including at her own engagement party.
