That’s the part that kills me about these people. They always think they’re different. “No no, he respects me. He trusts me. I’m inner circle.” Yeah? So were the fifty other idiots currently wandering around America trying to sell memoirs and reverse engineer how their soul fell out of their arse. That’s the Trump career path. You walk in thinking you’re joining Camelot and eighteen months later you’re sobbing in a car park staring at your phone, wondering how a man who cheats at golf, eats burnt steak with ketchup like a divorced raccoon, and can’t drink a glass of water with one hand, could have possibly betrayed you. How? Because that’s what he does. That’s ALL he does. He is an industrial shredder for human self respect. You feed in lawyers, advisers, generals, press secretaries, billionaires, whatever you’ve got, and out the other end comes a twitching husk in formalwear trying to explain why it was actually an honour to be publicly degraded by a game show host with the emotional range of a broken vendi…