Kierkegaard's Lunch

Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who spotted it? In the first of Trump’s delusional rants to camera in denial of democratic reality, early in the morning after the election, he took to the microphone to claim victory and allege massive Democrat fraud, even as many States were still counting votes. Yet, before he said these extraordinary, constitution-destroying things, he began by talking about having to cancel the party that was all set to start, in his honour. The big showcase adorationfest with him as star guest, in front of fawning, adoring and maskless underlings. A place he loves to be. A place he must be if his entire self-concept is to function.  It was striking. The four-year-old in action once more, tantrumming his way into ground zero of the election agenda and framing the entire situation around his upset at not being able to have a party in his own honour. That was his opener. To me, the rest of what he said just seemed like the typical psychological reaction of this bro...

I remember the day in 1997, in London. A much younger Tony Blair, fresh from the landslide that swept the decaying and useless government of John Major from power, walking along Downing Street shaking hands with supporters. The party that evening, where they played 'Things can only get better'. The country had finally lost patience with a dessicated and incompetent Tory government, empty of ideas and crippled, then as now, by xenophobia and nativistic hatreds of Europe; a government that knew it was all over and was begging to be euthanised. I won't even start to chart the story since then. How could I? There are plenty of books out there with titles like 'How did everything get so screwed?' or 'How this disaster unfolded'. I remember a few months after Blair took office, the Princess of Wales died in a horrific pile-up in Paris, and our new baby faced Prime Minister seemed to judge the national mood perfectly, whilst the Royals clung on to ritual and remo...