Part of my purpose as a political commentator for these past few years has been to try to understand the fears of angry people. I don’t agree with everything said by the voters of Clacton, Rochester or Trumpville USA. But I think it’s important that we understand where they are coming from. I probably do that for personal reasons. My own family tree is populated with working-class folks who would be dismissed in the media as morons and bigots. They’re not. They’re just people, and there’s a poetry to their lives like everyone else’s - a resilience that defies recessions and snobbery. It’s like Ma Joad says in Grapes of Wrath: “Us people will go on livin' when all them people is gone. Why, we're the people that live. They ain't gonna wipe us out. Why, we're the people - we go on.”

On and on they go, silent and invisible. The people driving your train, fixing your car, pouring your coffee. Until some day some desperate politician gives them a referendum – and they are heard across the world. That’s why the referendum saved my faith in politics. It put the people back in charge.

But, of course, a lot of people voted for the other option and they, too, must have a say in the future. The national consensus has to be rebuilt; the politicians need to atone for their past sins by reconnecting and leading. They need to talk Britain up, not sustain this weird Project Fear long after the referendum - like an insurgency against the electorate. Come out of your hiding, Mr Osborne! Tell us it's all going to be okay!