When I saw Theresa May holding hands with Trump (of whose genesis I was writing only the other day) I was filled with foreboding.
For I am old enough to remember 1938 and Neville Chamberlain flying off to Munich to meet Hitler. During a lull in the talks, the pair of them were photographed strolling hand-in-hand through a meadow in the Bavarian Alps.
When Chamberlain came back to London in triumph, that picture appeared on the front page of all the papers; but things turned sour and it was to haunt him for the brief years that were left to him.
Why was there no one at Mrs May’s elbow to remind her of this?
Previously in Lord Bonkers' Diary...