And now it is Trumpinitis (Mexicans out! Actually pretty much like that).

So now I come back to HuSi after years without visiting (I blame Mr TheophileEscargot who prolifically tweets as well as blogging here, his tweets whispering "HuSi" softly and flirtatiously) and here I am, but all of the sudden I realise that most of you are either British or USofA subjects, so are you reader friend or foe?

Or maybe you are all friends, but some only on condition that my spatial location is drastically altered, by teleportation lets say (beam me up Scotty!) to an imaginary box roughly centered in the cross between meridian 100 and the Tropic of Cancer, the most mischievous of you widening the box enough to include bits of the paradisiac Mexican coast, so I am gently deposited in wet, salty but Mexican ultramarine territory.

I don't know, that is the sad thing. And I don't want to know.

So please don't tell me to go home, home is here now, old Londinium, capital city of Brexitania, faithful ally of New Trumpia, gallant opposites to the Barbarians with their Continental UKIP filled Parliaments (because let's face it, a proper Parliament wouldn't let those people in), their straight bananas, their devilish centimetres, their human rights, their sausages and their cheeses. Non,non,non.

As for paying for that wall, I have 1000000000 (yes, one billion) Zimbabwean dollars somewhere in my humble abode, I promise to send them promptly to Ms Melania Trump, The White House, Washington (I suppose she manages the domestic economy in that most blissful of First Couples, as it corresponds to an individual lacking that most important of appendages of which only one can exist in a pious marriage).

That should atone for our sins.

Padre nuestro que estas en el cielo
I have worked in Brexitania...
Santificado sea tu nombre
.. I have worked in New Trumpia!
Perdona nuestros pecados
I have befriended queers....
Como nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden.
... And Muslims as well.

Repenting I do, be that bank note a real measure of my ultimate wickedness and true repentance.

If asked nicely, I am prepared to send a pile of 1000 Indian Rupees banknotes, name your number Ms Melania, I politely request that they were issued before this last Tuesday by the Indian Central Bank (may the god of pot golds bless their souls) because I am superstitious in that kind of quirky way, as a receipt I just request a signed photograph of yourself in those happy times when you first met the commander in chief, one of those in which the inclement weather of your adopted country forced you to bare it all, or most of it, in all likelihood against your most fervent wishes.