After this year’s ludicrous presidential election campaign, which showed just how far humanity had de-evolved from its primordial ooze and noble ape beginnings, resulted in Donald Trump capturing the White House on Tuesday, I’ve decided to treat the USA like a firework that has failed to go off or a potentially dangerous dog.
You know, the banger that blows up in your face when you think it’s a dud or the dog you’re walking towards and you’re not sure if it’s going to continue sniffing that lamppost or take a chunk out of your bahooky.
It’s a shame, I was just in the country last month – in the same city on the same day as Clinton and Trump as it turned out – and all the people I came into contact with were just like us, only a wee bit more polite with whiter teeth.
American influences run deep within me – thanks to the magic of telly I’ve been exposed to US culture since I was a toddler and old enough to understand the plot intricacies of The Dukes of Hazzard.
I like the films and the rock ‘n’ roll music that started off in America and were exported around the world and copied without shame by everyone and their granny. Those wee White Castle hamburgers aren’t bad either.
Neither Trump nor Clinton are very popular among the majority of Americans who have a bit of sense about them.
Voting for these candidates was like giving someone the choice between getting a paper cut between their fingers or a paper cut between their toes.
I’ll be watching you America – but only by peeking out from behind my couch.