British Writer Pens The Best
Description Of Trump I’ve
Read
Nate White
“Why do some British people not like Donald
Trump?” Nate White, an articulate and witty writer
from England wrote the following response:
A few things spring to mind. Trump lacks certain
qualities which the British traditionally esteem. For
instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no
credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no
wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness,
no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities,
funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama
was generously blessed. So for us, the stark contrast
does rather throw Trump’s limitations into
embarrassingly sharp relief.
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be
laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty
or even faintly amusing – not once, ever. I don’t say
that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not
ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the
British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost
inhuman. But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even
seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke
is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of
cruelty.
Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny
and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers. And
scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he
actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like
algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.
There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity,
nuance or depth. It’s all surface. Some Americans
might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t.
We see it as having no inner world, no soul. And in
Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All
our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick
Whittington, Oliver Twist. Trump is neither plucky, nor
an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that. He’s not
even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat. He’s more
a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.
And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to
the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among
bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling
sidekick instead. There are unspoken rules to this stuff
– the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he
breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a
gentleman should, would, could never do – and every
blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to
kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them
when they are down.
So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third
– of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he
says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of
guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress
to British people, given that:
• Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and
mostly are.
• You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to
spot a few flaws in the man.
This last point is what especially confuses and
dismays British people, and many other people too; his
faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss. After all, it’s
impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a
sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss.
He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso
of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are
fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad
infinitum. God knows there have always been stupid
people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But
rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so
stupid. He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George
W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make
a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he
would make a Trump.
And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out
big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish: ‘My
God... what... have... I... created?' If being a twat was
a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.