"What do you mean, president of where?!" you shout, gesturing, flailing even. You're not sure what you're gesturing about. You're just waving your arms. You stop that.
"What do you mean, president of where? Don't you know? I figured you would know. In fact," you gulp, "I think if you were the people that this message.. that I, ahem, am intended for, you would definitely know which president they're talking about."
The girl takes a step closer. She's right in your face. You can smell nanotechnology. Bad nanotechnology.