What a great year this has been, what a good mood I’m in, why, it’s almost like being in love. The year 2016 will be seen as the worst ever by many patients of Dr Klinghoffer, the famous German psychiatrist who treats those suffering from the extreme distress of post-electoral disappointment syndrome, and a man about to make a fortune treating the poor dears. There are many Brits under the Herr Doktor’s care, and his clinic, situated near Ossining, New York, resembled a British retreat for broken-down thespians following 23 June of this annus mirabilis. Now more American voices have been added, and when I last spoke to Dr Klinghoffer his heavy German accent sounded almost Hollywoodian: ‘Zese people are worse than ze English, zey cry at ze sight of an appleshdrudel.’
Well, all I can say is that Brexit has turned many a Brit into a quivering wreck. Trump foes, meanwhile, are going bananas and there are still three weeks to go before he takes over. My friend Zac Goldsmith lost his seat in a revenge attack for his Brexit stance despite being among the very, very few totally honest members of Parliament. Perhaps the year is not as good as I first thought, but as an eternal optimist I still believe it’s the best since 1571, when the Holy League’s naval forces led by Don John and blessed by Pope Pius V trounced the Ottomans in the Gulf of Patras, or Lepanto as the Venetians called it. (It was a close-run thing, with massive casualties on both sides — even Cervantes lost a hand — but the Christians finally won and after they had stuck the head of Ali Pasha on the cross of Don John’s bow, the towels threw in the towel.)
Mind you, there have been so many promises broken by our so-called elites that the word has lost its meaning.
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