In 1940 a madman threatened all civilisation. Mad he may have been, and evil beyond the imaginings of ordinary people, but nobody could deny that Adolf Hitler was also wickedly clever. He knew what he wanted — a pure Aryan empire ruled over by the glorious Third Reich — and went to war after six years of building Germany's military into an unparalleled force. 

Whatever it is, it is incredible that Trump is currently the so-called leader of the free world. Never has there been a less suitable person to hold that highest office. 

Trump is no Accidental President, he was elected because the Democrats let Biden go on too long and chose as their candidate Kamala Harris, an empty vessel. The Maga boneheads believed all Trump told them. The world is flat? Of course it is. The moon's a balloon? You betcha!  

And now we have the terrible reckoning. Four weeks in, the Middle East in flames with Tehran starting to resemble Gaza, the Strait of Hormuz closed to almost all shipping, Europe facing crippling energy prices and food shortages and farmers talking of devastated harvests without nitrogen and other fertilisers for their crops. 

This is what happens when a madman goes to war on a whim, goaded on by fellow criminal Benjamin Netanyahu and/or Pete Hegseth and "that feeling I had in my bones". No planning, no aim, no thought for the consequences. A man surrounded by billionaire hangers-on for whom an isolationist America with its huge resources of oil and gas will escape the bitter ravages heaped upon the rest of us.   

Back to 1940, only one man other than Hitler had a plan. Winston Churchill, whose life until then had been one of adventure, an aristocratic soldier with the gift of writing but with no obvious talent for politics; criss-crossing the House and making few friends at Westminster. When Chamberlain knew the game was up, there seemed only one man to lead Britain and the world: Viscount Halifax. He was the choice of the Tories and of the King but he didn't want It. Thank God. 

So Churchill, who ached for the job, was summoned to the Palace from his home at Chartwell in the Kent countryside, all the while on the 23-mile drive in the back of the stately black Humber rehearsing what he would say to a sovereign who neither liked nor trusted him. Initially he did two things, he formed a cross-party national government and he asked Lord Beaverbrook to be Minister of Aircraft Production.  

Twice the Canadian genius behind the Express empire said No. Then he relented but only on his exacting terms and answerable only to the Prime Minister (and sometimes not even to him). 

Beaverbrook’s role was critical; the successive governments of Baldwin and Chamberlain had done little to gear up Britain's armaments even though it was clear that was exactly what Hitler was doing. By his trademark concoction of charm and bullying he ensured we had enough (just) fighter planes to win the Battle of Britain in the summer of that year. The way he did that took the sort of brilliance he had displayed with his newspapers; instinct, the right appointments and planning.  

Look around and where is today's Churchill? Or FDR, JFK or Obama? 

Britain is populated by politicians of no consequence. A combination of the hopeless, the failed, the chancers and the lunatics. While over in Washington the madman feels free to lampoon Starmer while preparing to receive the King for a State visit, now confirmed by the Palace. He does exactly what comes to mind at any time of the day or night. with no one smart enough to say No.  

What do you think Trump would have done if faced with the great issues of his predecessors? Like Khrushchev and the 1962 Cuban missile crisis or de-segregating US schools. He would have done as he is doing now; he would have made it up as he went along, listening only to the sycophants and trying to make a buck or two from other people's agonies. 

Now it appears thousands of Marines and Delta Force troops are about to land in the Gulf, maybe to capture Kharg island, Iran's main oil terminal. It may be a step too far, boots on ground leads to body bags returning to US airfields and Maga support will melt away in an instant. 

That's what happens when a madman goes to war. 

 *****

I was saddened to learn of the death of my old friend and neighbour Ivor Davis. He was one of that distinguished coterie of reporters who worked under David English when he was Express foreign editor and it was English who thought it would be a good idea to cover the Beatles’ first tour of America in 1964.

Ivor was assigned to George Harrison and ghosted his daily diary, duly printed in the Express. He remained close to the band and wrote, lectured and broadcast often on them.  

His late wife Sally had been a journalist on Ulster Television in the 1960s where we met at various times. They had a beautiful apartment in Hove (actually) and he rented part of it to me as a weekend bolt hole. A few footsteps away from Chez Rayner and Chateau Brian Hitchen. If only they those two had been neighbours at the time! 

Ivor and I corresponded frequently and we last saw him for dinner in Covent Garden three years ago. He was a decent, generous man and a fine journalist. 

***** 

AND FINALLY

My Lebanese barber Sam is well used to my pleadings for “just a tidy-up, say a week’s worth off please, nothing dramatic”. Last week he had an answer; “Look, I don’t charge by the weight you know”. 

ALAN FRAME

1 April 2026