So this is the teenage rebellion phase of the huddled masses? Somehow, during the merriment of the festive season the pain of the dripping wounds of the recent electoral missteps have been rather dulled. Or maybe I’m being overdramatic. But having conversations with learned gentlemen, some of whom just so happen to be related to me (there’s only so much personal news to get through during a visit, sooner or later world events were bound to enter into the discussion), takes me back to the wince inducing decisions made during the past twelvemonth.
Why, this time last December we reckoned we were in a much more stable position. Sure, the ham faced man in charge of the country was living under the uncorroborated shadow of pig-gate but he could at least claim to have been elected by the people (sure, Theresa May was chosen as leader of the party who won the general election but it just doesn’t feel the same does it?). And there were plenty of powerful countries who had to pretend to pay attention to our opinions. Over the pond, Americans hadn’t descended into puzzlingly self destructive self interest and it was largely treated as a joke that the bumfluff haired thing would be heading for office.
And now here we are. Don’t we all feel just a little bit silly that everything’s reached this particular point in proceedings? You can take a gander at what might have been and experience that creeping sensation of regret for the life you could have had. Like some sort of game show where you’re supposed to know for definite that the box you’ve been clutching so steadfastly to your chest was worth more than the other one you chose to go with. It’s such a shame that precognition has fallen out of fashion. Because it was certainly a thing once upon a time.
Song choices courtesy of: Matchbox 20, The Goo Goo Dolls and Rachel Bloom