I'm not blowing any Trumpet

So, it's all over bar the shooting. I was hoping to congratulate or excoriate the winner of yesterday's US elections, but since deadline was snapping at my heels while the doomed and the desperate were still voting, it was never going to happen.

- BEN TROVATO CUT&RUN

I did consider taking a wild gamble and writing to Kamala Harris but, astoundingly, the race remained too close to call right up until polls opened.

Nevertheless, my prediction is that Harris will take it by a wider margin than expected.

This isn't necessarily wishful thinking, or thinking of any kind, really, because no matter how much you study the American political system, analyse voting patterns or try to understand the Republican voters' mind, you will never fully understand that sprawling beast of a country, or those who live in it.

And while the smart money is on Harris, a part of me hopes for a Trump win.

A Trump loss will guarantee the unedifying yet hilarious spectacle of the world's biggest toddler throwing his toys out of his gilded cot amid a blame game of impressive proportions.

Still, as far as entertainment goes, it will be a limited series rather than a long-running epic. More Resident Evil than, say, The Sopranos.

But if 60 million Americans do send him back to the White House, that's when the fun starts. Well, this depends on your interpretation of fun. Like humour, a sense of fun varies from person to person.

For instance, Jeffrey Dahmer had great fun eating bits of the 17 men he killed. I can't speak for the French, here, because they'll eat pretty much anything if it's paired with the right wine, but many of us might not take to it.