To reach his table – hemmed in anticipation by red braided ropes clipped to brass dividers – from the entrance of his living quarters, the President of the United States of America need pass nearly 100 of 350 dinner guests at Mar-a-Lago, most of them his club’s members. He stops only once: to embrace Anthony Pratt.

With his ducktailed orange curls and lurid complexion, the packaging billionaire could scarcely hide in plain sight. And here, on Easter Saturday, why would he?