This is a scene from the village fete of a very posh, very beautiful little settlement we visited this weekend. It’s the thing where you Throw wet sponges at some poor bastard in the stocks, no doubt in aid of some charity or other. And, yes, he’s wearing a mask of Donald Trump.

People who inject politics where it doesn’t belong. Am I right?

It’s one of our favorite fetes. Rich people throw out the damnedest thing. Last time, we got an enormous (if not absolutely complete) Minton tea service for, like, £5. No great triumphs this year, but we got some good books and some jam from the Bible society and a sausage on a roll.

I debated saying something to Trump Mask Guy for harshing my mellow. I’d regret it forever if I didn’t, youknow? so as we were leaving, I walked up and whispered in his ear, “I voted for that man, and I have never regretted it.”

Couldn’t see his face