Forget all the politicians? I can dig that

THE French aren’t entirely stupid, you know. Despite their obsession with wine, cheese and other people’s spouses, they are capable of the occasional bout of wisdom.

In ancient times this was known as Norman Wisdom, although in modern times, that has become known as a terrible joke.

Anyway, they had this bloke, Voltaire, who was quite clever for someone in the 18th Century, and he wrote a book about a young lad who went round the world trying to find the meaning of life, rubbing up against all the follies of mankind on his way.

By the time he got back home he decided there was just no making sense of any of it and so, as he put it in French, being French, “Il faut cultiver notre jardin.”

Roughly translated this means, “You might as well let them get on with it and just look after your own garden”.

That’s pretty much how I feel after our blizzard of elections and referendums. The lunatics have taken over the asylum. The world is going to hell in a handbasket – Boris Johnson, for pity’s sake.

There is nothing left on offer that any sensible person can vote

I’d come back every Friday to take mum to Morrisons

for – and although it’s tempting to give them a try, I do have to include Mr Fishfinger and Lord Buckethead in that.

So when your fate has been taken out of your hands, what do you do?

I suppose you could embroider your own flag, start waving it about and see if anyone rallies round. But I suspect that would attract the likes of Tony Blair, and I’d rather just stay in the frying pan, thank you.

You could move to France where, despite a brief flirtation with assorted headbangers, they actually seem to be getting a grip on things. But then I’d have to come back every Friday to take my mum to Morrisons . . .

On the whole, it might be wiser to just get on with your life, make the best of it you can, try and make your small corner as pleasant as possible – and if the world blows up, well, no one was ever going to ask your permission anyway.

So I’m off to the garden centre to buy some seeds.

Oh, and maybe a shotgun as well, just in case it all kicks off while I’m weeding.