He got to me. Time for America to get rid.

Why the hell do I take so much interest in American politics? I’m British, for God’s sake. Yes, I know that what happens in the next couple of days will affect the future of everyone on the planet, not just the honking, hooting, praying voters of America.

But that still doesn’t explain why I’ve written so much about Trump over the last five years, and why I’ve taken every opportunity to pour scorn over him, his wretched family and his craven collaborators.

He got to me, that’s why. Every time I look at his sneering face, listen to his whining voice and watch him inciting his supporters, I curl up with revulsion. I splutter with amazement that such a goodly proportion of Americans should put their trust in such a profoundly bad person.

I’m not going to go through his crimes and misdemeanours. The list is long. Most of us know the basics, and some of us don’t think they’re important. Some people in my country think that it’s in our interest that he should win again, as if our interests are so important in the big scheme of things.

In my view, if Biden wins, and punishes us British for our government’s support for the orange monster, I will say that we deserve it for electing a government that deserves no respect from anyone. He won’t punish us, by the way, any more than an elephant will go out of its way to crush a cockroach. We’ll just be reminded how unimportant we are, the more so now we’re just a small island unmoored from a continent that actually is important.

I’m still amazed how, on the eve of this election, I’m like a child waiting to discover what he gets for Christmas or his birthday. Will I be delighted or doomed to wait another year, or four years in this case?

It Trump does win, I suspect I might admit defeat, and give up any interest in politics whatsoever. At my age, I have to consider what is a valuable use of my time. To agonise over the antics of a demented tyrant, or to turn away and read more books, thereby enhancing my understanding of whatever life is left to me?

It’s a choice I hope I don’t have to make. I’ve just watched a movie called Resistance, which is based on mime artist Marcel Marceau’ experience in the French resistance in World War 2. At one stage, after one of his comrades is tortured to death by Klaus Barbie, the Butcher of Lyon, Marceau also has a choice. He urges one of his colleagues to focus not on trying to kill as many Nazis in revenge, but on helping orphaned Jewish children sheltering in France to escape to Switzerland.

His argument was that future generations were dependent on the survival of those children. But if the Nazis were to be defeated and the malefactors brought to justice, a small number of resistance fighters would not be the means to make that happen. In the end his argument prevailed. He helped hundreds of children to reach safety. And Klaus Barbie died in jail.

Today’s the day. The future of America is in the hands of Americans. They have the power to get rid of the malevolent cuckoo in their nest. If they don’t I can’t see myself visiting the US again. It would make me too sad to see what has become of a country I used to admire and love, for all its quirks and flaws.

So do it, America, both for your own sake and that of the rest of us, who crave a rest from the shit-show that is Donald Trump.