Prez

Because of the 5 hour time difference between England and Toronto, coverage of the US Presidential election in November didn’t start until 1 am London time.

I dozed off while watching it and woke up with a start around 3 am (10 pm New York time) having had a terrible nightmare in which Donald Trump won the Presidency.

Then I realized it was no dream.

The UK commentators were befuddled.

The “experts” in the UK were astonished.

No one knew quite what to make of it.

The only exception was Nigel Farage, the Weasel of Westminster and head of UKIP (The United Kingdom Independence Party), who had managed to steer the UK Referendum towards leaving the EU by employing the keenly clever strategy of outright lying, and who was braying his delight at the Trump victory.

In a country that prides itself on wit, a country who’s Parliament is often the stage for cleverly literate exchanges, a country that still reveres Winston Churchill for his verbal prowess, to contemplate an American President who communicates at the level of a 4^th Grader seemed both ludicrous and depressing.

Some of the Politicians were frankly dismissive: the Scots were characteristically blunt, describing Trump as someone who delivers on 10% of his promises and rancorously argues about the rest, and who goes to war with neighbours who oppose anything to do with his golf course businesses.

Theresa May was clinically correct in her remarks, having been prudent enough, after Brexit, to realize that the unthinkable could happen, and had refrained from making openly dismissive comments about Donald, unlike many of her colleagues.

But Trump’s seeming tolerance of Vladimir Putin and all things dictatorial is what really sent a shiver through the country.

There are a lot of Poles and other Eastern Europeans in England: stores named “Polski Skep” (Polish for “Polish Store”) abound, selling eastern European foods to expats. Poles are everywhere in service positions: restaurant waiters, hotel front desks, maître d’s, construction contractors.

They are the largest single foreign-born immigrant group in the UK, and they are understandably anxious when massive Russian Tupolov-95 Bear nuclear bombers regularly rumble near UK airspace just off the coast of Scotland in “training exercises”, a reminder of just how short the distance is between Europe and Russian military bases: London, Europe’s westernmost capital city, is just 1500 km from Moscow.

With Putin’s unilateral annexation of Crimea, claiming it was Russian territory all along, ringing alarm bells and unearthing painful memories (remember that little German corporal who marched into Czechoslovakia a few decades ago, claiming it to be German territory all along?) it’s small wonder the UK and Europe are nervous about Trump’s willingness to put a benign spin on all things Putin.

Can there be any doubt that the Russian bombing in Syria is not also target practice?

Can there be any question that Putin’s goal is to recreate a greater Romanov-like Russia, ensnaring all the former Soviet states in his Russian mesh?

Can there be any wonder that Trump’s railing against NATO makes the Poles, the Estonians, the Latvians, the Czechs, fearful?

“The Nightmare at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue” opens globally on January 20^th: let’s hope it’s not as frightening as the trailers.