Biden and Trump: in the battle of the geriatrics, I’d take a well-meaning old’un over a malicious tyrant any day.

Well now, since Joe Biden’s cognitive facilities have just been determined by a special prosecutor (who’s supposed to be impartial but seems anything but) to be seriously impaired, and for that reason an increasing number of supporters are saying that he’s not a suitable candidate to be president for the next four years, I thought I would do a quick audit of my own mental capacity at the grand young age of 72. How would memory perform if I was suddenly – and miraculously – elevated to the office of prime minister of the UK? And how would I measure up against Joe, for that matter?

Since Joe is said to have a bit of a temper, I’ve added a few curses for more convincing effect. So here, for your amusement, are some examples of my declining faculties:

When I wake up in the morning, I’m often not sure what day it is. Is that a problem? Thanks to my smart phone, hell no. Provided of course I can figure out how to use the damned thing. And should it fail, there’s always my beloved to kick me out of bed if required. Not a problem for Joe I imagine, since there are bound to be secret service agents constantly prowling around to make sure he’s not dead.

Sometimes I forget my wife’s birthday, or our wedding anniversary. Does that prevent life from going on? Not really, I just acquire a fresh layer of scar tissue every time it happens. I doubt if that EVER happens to Joe. That’s what chiefs of staff are there for, right?

No, I can’t remember when my mother died. I don’t need to. Her picture is on the mantelpiece. That’s enough. And as Joe might have said, it’s none of anybody’s fucking business.

If you ask me to make a speech, I might misquote a name or two. That’s usually because I’m too busy focusing on my audience to concentrate on the words in front of me. Or maybe I didn’t print the words large enough for my failing eyesight to pick up. I would explain Joe’s lapses by pointing out that some people are good at faces, some at names – rarely both. If in my new role I fail to recognise people in public gatherings, I’d just get everyone to wear a name tag.

How much Latin and Greek do I remember from my days studying those languages? Once upon a time, I was able to write grammatically perfect essays in either. These days I can barely translate a tombstone. Is this because I’m losing my wits or because my brain has locked away unused knowledge and skills? The latter, I suspect. It’s all still there. I just need to hit my head on a doorway to bring it back. And Joe? he has 50 years experience in high-level politics. I would say that there are plenty of shits he dealt with in that time whom he has chosen to forget.

Many years ago, when I was at university, I kept bumping into a person who seemed to know me better that I knew him. In fact I never knew his name, but in order to avoid hurting his feelings I pretended that I did. This was excruciating. I ended up knowing quite a lot about him but never his name. He was always “mate” or some other term of endearment. Which goes to show that impairment – if such it is – doesn’t necessarily strike late in life. it’s just that when you get old, you’re looking anxiously for the evidence.

I have a pretty large library of books at home. I read about a hundred a year, mostly non-fiction. As for the fiction, I have full sets of Le Carre and Robert Harris novels among others. I reckon there would be a 25% chance that I’d be able to tell you the plot of one of those books. The rest I’ve long forgotten. I don’t know whether or not Joe is a big reader. He can be forgiven if he’s not, given the amount of crap he as to wade through as president.

One thing I’ve noticed in recent years is that from time to time, when I’m talking about something, I might veer off track and forget what I’m talking about. It only takes a few seconds to recover. Joe does too. Is that such a bad thing? I’ve always found that there’s nothing like an unscheduled pause to keep an audience on their toes. Think of the unspoken questions from the audience: Was I asleep? Did I miss something? Is my hearing OK? Is he about to keel over? Has he just made a joke? Should I laugh?

I can think of all manner of other impairment evidence. For example, I remember very little of my riotous life in my twenties. Because there are few photos or letters to jog the memory, much of it’s gone. I often have to rely on old friends to fill in the gaps (thanks Andy!).

I suspect much of this is normal, but beyond the understanding of the smart-arse special prosecutor who made such a big deal of Joe Biden’s occasionally flawed memory. In fact I know very few people between the ages of 70 and 90 who don’t suffer memory gaps. That doesn’t make them incapable of effective and productive lives. They just develop workarounds.

So let’s think about what kind of impairment might make me incapable of filling my exalted position. How about remembering the names of one’s cabinet members? In the UK, a Prime Minister could be forgiven for forgetting a few names, given how anonymous the current lot are. Perhaps the same applies to Joe.

The stuff you don’t want to lose is the ability to communicate, to listen, to explain, to negotiate: the life skills. And what if you lost your understanding of the nature of things? If you no longer remembered the purpose and function of a nuclear bomb, or how budgets work, you’d be in trouble. But in Joe Biden’s case, and certainly in mine, it wouldn’t take long for your colleagues to summon the people in white coats. But what if you were Vladimir Putin, Kim Jong Un or, God help us, Donald Trump, if he were to become president again? What if your subordinates were so terrified of you that they would do your bidding no matter how deranged you were? Think of Hitler or Stalin.

I don’t see any evidence from Robert Hur, the special prosecutor in Biden’s case, that any of the fundamental degradation of cognitive faculties I’m referring to above has taken place. What’s more, Hur’s brief was not to provide a psychological evaluation of those faculties.

But here’s a thought. If you knew me well enough, you could easily design a series of questions that would make me look incapable of managing a teapot, let alone a country. And I suspect that the same applies to Biden. But equally, if you asked us a different set of questions, you would have no doubt about the ability of people like Joe and me in our seventies and eighties to deal with what’s put in front of them.

As we grow older, we hold on to knowledge and skills that continue to be useful to us. And we hone them by using them – by practice. And I suspect that the American people have far more to learn from Joe Biden at 81 than the ambitious Robert Hur at 50.

Should Biden end up running against Trump this time round, I suggest that both of them undergo the same psychiatric evaluation – administered by an unimpeachably impartial team – after their nominations. After all, there are illnesses that cause cognitive impairment. so it would be sensible to rule them out in the cases of both candidates. But equally, it is wrong to make assumptions – even about Trump – without proof positive.

Indeed, if an evaluation should prove that the kind of memory lapses that Biden suffers are not impediments to his doing his job properly, the same judgement might apply to Trump. But here’s the difference between the two. The problem with Trump is not what he forgets or misstates, it’s what he actually says, much of it with malicious intent. Whereas Joe might forget a few names, but he doesn’t tend to go on riffs about starting World War 3 or encouraging Putin to attack NATO members who don’t pay their dues. Out of the two of them I’d prefer to have a well-meaning gentleman with his finger on the nuclear button any time.

One final thought. An important variable among older people is motivation. The less you want something the less you try to get it. And the less you try, the faster your abilities degrade.

As for me, as I sit among my imaginary cabinet at 10, Downing Street and bark out orders, I have the comfort of knowing that William Gladstone only stepped down from my office at the age of 84, 12 years older than me. And Winston Churchill finally retired to Chartwell at 81.

So I reckon I’ll be soldiering on in my fantasy office for a few years yet. Anything to keep the Tories out…