It’s been one helluva week in the White House, and, like a shot of adrenaline, the president has found the arrival of his Mini-Me invigorating
If looks could kill. There is Anthony Scaramucci going full alpha male: chest out, shoulders back, thumbs on belt, feet planted solidly apart, eyes fixed in a deadly stare. There is Reince Priebus, less obviously macho but with a face like thunder as he glares back, a yawning chasm between them. Many historic photographs have been taken in the Oval Office but few have captured mutual loathing so indelibly.