Dear America, thank you for not giving me diseases.

You are in a strange way, America, and returning here to the dull grumbling anger of Britain puts it in even sharper relief. All we’re dealing with is the left-over xenophobia and poison of 80s conservatism. You face something that is at once ancient and painfully novel, and it’s no reason you’re slumping into tired confusion or looking behind you to see which allies to blame instead of facing the enemy in front of you. We’re grappling with the shameless river monster that we thought died of old age. You’re dealing with a formless political entity that campaigns and will rule via a social internet service from a throne on a plane.

It was painful to see the wounds on a country I love - and make no mistake, I do love America, weird as it is. To see the fear on the people. The genuine, visceral fear on people who are non-hyperbolically aware that a year from now it may be harder for them to literally stay alive. And, on others, the creeping fear that their belief that they’d elected someone who could see them may have gotten them conned. As I said to a lot of you on tour - we had the preview of all this in Britain.

2016 has only 19 days left to kill me, so I’m assuming I’m going to make it. I am very interested to see how 2017 looks. Good morning, good night and good luck.