America has had it. As a world power, as a democracy, as a civilised society. Joe Biden talks about “being back at the head of the (international) table”. Uh-ugh. No. Trump relinquished that seat and you cannot just slip back into it as if nothing has happened. Lots has happened. The USA is no longer a stable democracy for one. It is an untrustworthy ally. It has walked out and reneged on most of its bigger global commitments, courted enemies and offended friends. Half its population voted for the horror of a human being that is Trump. Half of the populace willed the wreaking of havoc he brought, voted for the values he espoused. And now America will pay the price.

It is a horror story for America. The nation’s demise has played out on live TV like some tin pot, third world country where the symbolic citadel of power has been exposed – just as vulnerable to attack and undermining as any other regime. The edifice of grandeur has collapsed with the Barbarians at the gates baying for blood. What a sight. What a scandal. What a tragedy. All so eloquently symbolised by that Stars and Bars banner triumphant in the seat of the Union. That flag of a discredited political system, of a defeated army, of a slave-owning economy, of every disenfranchised, ignorant, gun-toting, white supremacist dickhead, of hatred, bigotry, violence – waving proudly as the banner of Trumpian Glory. It is as viscerally shocking as if a swastika swung over the Palace of Westminster. It is a reminder that we are all a hair’s breadth away from despotism and the rule of the mob. America came close to dying today. Its fragility exposed, its democratic values hanging by a thread.

If the price of liberty really is eternal vigilance, then the people of the USA need to get back on guard. They have been ambushed and bamboozled and wrong footed by the malignity of a man with whom people who should know better should not have joined in common cause. The Republican Party will be out of power for generations after this betrayal. They have shown themselves to be unfit for office – their complicity with Trump has turned them into the party of the Confederacy. You can hear the backpeddaling now as they try to distance themselves, but people are not so easily fooled: just as Britain’s Prime Minister and Facebook and Twitter so fearlessly attack Trump by name with only two weeks left in office for his incitement to riot when they no longer have to cower prostrate in front of him, the Republicans are denouncing their saviour in his hour of need. Fair friends indeed. It is a blessing that on the day these KKK thugs tried to take power by President-backed coup, the Democrat party took back control of the Senate, clearing the way to deal with this departure from the High Road of Democracy that America has taken. The march back must begin straight away. There can be no forgiveness for Trump’s attempted over turn of the election result. He has encouraged his supporters to overthrow an election he lost; he has broken his oath to uphold the Constitution. He must be impeached. He must be evicted from office. As Confederate in Chief, he must be tried for treason.

Sam and Josh were transfixed and found it fascinating. Each vitrine was crammed with spectacle and there was so much detail of horror. The Damian Hurst shark in formaldehyde also attracted their attention, as did the other Chapman brothers exhibit of life sized sculptures of seemingly innocent children who had phalluses for noses and vaginas for mouths. The Chapman brothers, for me, are geniuses, if uncomfortable. They enjoy tempting you in and then smashing you in the face for your sin.

The other exceptional art memory from the Saatchi was Sun Yuan and Peng Yu’s “Old people’s home” (2008) which took up the entire basement gallery. Comprising 13 hyperrealist sculptures of elderly world leaders such as Yasser Arafat of the PLO, Fidel Castro of Cuba, Archbishop Makarios of Cyprus and Leonid Brezhnev of the USSR, the figures moved around the room in electric wheelchairs. The wheelchairs had sensors so they would bumb harmlessly into one another in their random journey around the floorspace and then deflect on to a new course. It was a brilliant depiction of the seemingly powerful rendered utterly harmless, even pathetic and vulnerable. Menacing historical figures reduced to impotence. The display was transfixing as well as funny.

The Saatchi is hit and miss but it is always worth a visit. Whenever I am in the vicinity I always go in. If you get lucky, you hit gold like the two exhibits above. And art such as this, that delivers a gut punch, makes a point on a visceral level as well as intellectual. It is both arresting and memorable. And whilst it is always a joyous feast for the eyes and heart to visit the National or the Tate galleries and to stare at the Turners, at Van Gogh, at Blake and Velasquez, it is the work that effects you in the guts which makes a lasting impression and actually makes you think. Don McCullin’s extraordinary photography in the industrial North of England and in Biafra at the Tate Britain. The simple lino cut of a grieving mother and father embracing in a way where it is possible to see it is two individuals but who are so entwined in their loss that they seem to merge into one, hope draining picture of utter despair. The sun in the great turbine hall at Tate Modern.

The most pungently impactful was Mark Wallinger’s dramatic recreation of Brian Haw’s Parliament Square protest State Britain, displayed at Tate Britain in 2007. State Britain consisted of a meticulous reconstruction of over 600 weather-beaten banners, photographs, peace flags and messages from well-wishers that had been amassed by Haw over five years. Haw began his protest against the economic sanctions in Iraq in June 2001, and remained opposite the Palace of Westminster until 23 May 2006 following the passing by Parliament of the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act, which prohibited unauthorised demonstrations within a one kilometre radius of Parliament Square. The majority of Haw’s protest was removed. Taken literally, the edge of this exclusion zone bisected the Tate Britain art gallery. Wallinger marked a line on the floor of the gallery positioning State Britain half inside and half outside the border. As a piece of protest art, pointing out the awful irony of legitimate protest being outlawed in the very square in London which is sacred to democracy and by the very institution which is supposed to enshrine the individual’s right to free speech in this country, this piece is incredibly articulate. Conceptually and politically brilliant, artistically it is very difficult viewing – many of the photographs displayed by Haw depict the atrocious and sickening effects of war munitions on babies, small children and civilians caught up in war. This is war, guts and all, and it is truly vile. There is no sanitisation, nor should there be. This is not PR puff or flattering portraiture. This type of work exposes the menace of politicians, of war and of neglecting our responsibility to think and to speak out. And isn’t that the real point of art? To provoke our reason and emotions enough to prompt our action?

This Christmas, in our household, we took it in turns to read ‘The wind in the willows’. The Edwardian language is in keeping with the spirit of a traditional English festive season and it is a lovely story. As we were reading it, it occurred to me how similar the character of Toad is to our own dear Prime Minister. The tom-foolery, the careless disregard for others’ safety or wellbeing, the utter lack of foresight, the headlong pursuit of his own agenda regardless of reason or common sense, the empty bluster, the showing off, the barefaced lies, the scheming for personal advantage. Toad, in case you have forgotten, ends up in gaol. His vanity, selfishness, criminal behaviour and headstrong egoism land him there. By playing on the sympathies of a kind hearted woman who brings him food to the cell, he escapes and goes on the run. Toad is irredeemable. Incorrigible. Corrupt. Crass. Bragging, deceitful and vainglorious. He is, in many ways, one of the most abhorrent characters in fiction. On paper. But he is also naughty. Naughty and childish. Naughty and very funny. And in this miscreant demeanour lies his charm. We like Toad. Very much. In spite of himself and in spite of our better judgement.

But Toad is only bearable because he is surrounded by wise friends and sage counsel. Boris – Mr. Toad at Number 10 – isn’t. He is surrounded by political idealogues as blunderingly incompetent as they are insensitive. ‘The wind in the willows’ wouldn’t be a story with a happy outcome if all the characters were like Toad. It would be an anarchy of selfishness where many characters end up getting hurt or, even worse, dying. Mercifully, there is only one Toad. And there is common sense, practical Ratty; there is dependable, compassionate Moley; and there is soundly logical, fierce Badger. Together, they prevent the worst excesses of Toad from getting out of control and they surround him with discipline and clear thinking. And they have a plan to win back Toad Hall from the marauding Wild Wooders who have taken advantage of Toad’s absence. A plan which takes courage to implement against superior numbers – a plan which is clever, thought-through and executed quickly and effectively.

The parallel with our current Covid crisis is startling. Our government lacks the alliance of brains and competence that restored the world of the riverbank back to order. This government’s strategy is a Mr. Toad strategy of immediate self-gratification. Its execution, ramshackle, last minute, zig-zagging chaos. Result: unnecessary deaths, societal confusion, disarray and a country that has become a laughing stock. This is what happens when you put Toad in the driving seat. In a children’s story, it’s funny. In real life, it’s deadly.

I don’t want to be ruled by Prime Minister Toad. I love Toad deeply as a character – the story would be the poorer without him, certainly tamer and less dramatic. But drama is the last thing we want from our leaders. We want the characteristics of Rat, Mole and Badger. We don’t want erraticism, buffoonery, grandstanding. Please God, at this Holy time of year, deliver us from Mr. Toad. This administration is a car crash of ineptitude. If we are really to come out of the last few years of psycho-drama – first Brexit then the pandemic – and forge a new path in the world, let us be done with fools. Let’s evict the cast of the Wild Wooders – weasels such as the bombastic Nigel Farage, the oleaginous Michael Gove and the thuggish Priti Patel – and put Boris in an asylum where he can entertain himself pretending to drive cars with the accompanying ‘poop poop’ noises that pass for policy initiatives. We are done with incompetents.

So this 31 December, when we are prisoners in our homes for the third time in 9 months, when the celebrations are there but the family are not, when we are all paying the price of Boris’ last minute-itis and propensity to please rather than to lead, let’s resolve not to fall for bread and circuses ever again. Let’s settle for bread. Without the clowns. Let’s look to the dawn of a new year, rising in the East, get some normality back into our lives, rebuild and re-vitalise. And let’s start the fightback that will re-take this country back from the Toads and weasels that have taken up residence for far too long. They did it in America this last November when they evicted their own Mr. Toad from The White House. I’m aiming at 2024 as a new beginning when we chuck them all out here in Britain. But it will take a clever plan which will take courage to implement and against – at the moment – superior numbers. Step up all the Rattys, Moleys and Badgers. Your country needs you.