Transatlantic distraction

It’s been a relatively quiet day in British politics, after yesterday’s excitement, though I guess it’s a sign of what a febrile state the country is in when the sight of the Prime Minister scuttling around the continent in the vain hope of finding some support in foreign capitals, while back home her own party plots to depose her, counts as only moderately notable.

It makes me nostalgic for the days when we smug Brits could look across the ocean, and laugh at our American cousins as they elected a cartoonish huckster to the highest office in the land. Now the boot is on the other foot, as the US, and indeed the whole world, watches our national descent into irrationality with unbelieving amusement.

Donald Trump can still be relied upon to deliver some diversion; today’s televised tantrum about shutting down the government if he doesn’t get the money to build his wall certainly raised a chuckle or two, and the unfolding Mueller probe promises more entertainment in the months to come.

But these will be only brief distractions; I’m resigned to it being a nonstop Brexit horror show round here for the foreseeable future.

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