Post

I have of late—but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory... why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors.

Trouble is, Hytner's fine Julius Caesar 6 years ago nailed the Trump/populist thing perfectly so all satire about it now, now that we're at the Timon-of-Athens-scrabbling-in-the-dirt stage of things just seems to evaporate. Barricades, yes?