Monday

The results of the European elections told us exactly what we already knew: that the country is hopelessly split. Just over a third of the country want a no-deal Brexit and roughly another 40% want to remain in the EU. The remainder want to leave with a deal, though they are unable to say exactly what kind of deal, just not the one that was offered. And yet, thanks largely to the other parties making themselves invisible (you’d have thought the Tories might have wanted to celebrate almost making double figures) it was the Brexit party that was allowed to dictate the narrative that it had secured an overwhelming victory with a press conference-turned-media scrum in Westminster. Yet again, Nigel Farage insisted his crack team of Ann Widdecombe, Claire Fox, Martin Daubney and Annunziata Rees-Mogg should be sent to Brussels to negotiate with the EU. Though what exactly they are meant to be negotiating is anybody’s guess as the Brexit party’s sole policy is to leave on World Trade Organization terms without negotiating a deal. On the plus side, Fox’s presence in Brussels will necessitate a leave of absence from Radio 4’s The Moral Maze. On her return it could be fun to switch her from interrogator to witness and ask her about the ethics of seeking election and taking a salary from an institution you don’t respect and whose work you actively seek to impede.

Alastair Campbell: ‘I only did it the once. Corbyn has voted with the Tories hundreds of time.’ Photograph: Dominic Lipinski/PA

Tuesday

An invitation arrives to the fabulous Nicola’s civil partnership in September. I don’t get invited to many weddings or civil partnerships these days. Other than from a daughter whose third wedding to the same man within a year took place in Minneapolis last weekend. Having been to the first two, my wife and I decided to avoid the hat-trick: it would only have encouraged her to have a fourth. Rather, it’s funerals that increasingly fill my diary. I have already been to more than I would like and can only look ahead to many more in the coming years – providing mine doesn’t bring proceedings to a halt. At 62, one’s mortality becomes ever harder to avoid. Next week Michael Apted’s series of ITV documentaries that began in 1964 with 7 Up and has progressed in seven year increments, reaches 63 Up. Being almost the same age as the subjects, I have always felt a personal attachment to them. The series started as an examination of class but has become more profound than that with each instalment. It’s almost as if each of them has lived out various possible paths I could have taken, though I’m not sure I would have wanted to put my own life under such public scrutiny. This time round we learn that one character has died and another has cancer. There have been rumours this may be the last in the series, but we’ve heard these before. My bet is that some – if not all – will be back for 70 Up. They have shown us how to live, love, succeed and fail. But their greatest gift is to show us how to face death. I will be with them every step of the way.

Wednesday

A big shout out to Mackenzie Bezos who has signed the Giving Pledge to donate at least half of her £30bn divorce settlement from Amazon Jeff to charitable causes. She could build several hospitals and provide free healthcare for many in the US with that. Maybe Jeff would like to follow her example. I don’t mean to sound too envious – I am, obviously – but I also can’t help wondering what she plans to do with the rest of her cash. I’ve been doing a little maths. Let’s assume she is a very cautious investor and chooses to put the other $15bn in my Club Lloyds Saver, which guarantees a return of 0.6% – the Monthly Saver, which offers a 2.5% return probably isn’t much use to her as you can only invest £400 per month – then she will have an income of £90m per year without touching any of her capital. Personally, I feel I might manage to get by on that. More likely, though, with that kind of money Mackenzie has found herself a very shrewd investment specialist who has guaranteed her a return of about 5%. In which case she is making £750m a year. Or more than £2m a day.

Thursday

As someone who has written a number of books whose sales – to put it kindly – have been underwhelming, I have tried to resist indulging in too much schadenfreude at Jacob Rees-Mogg’s latest, The Victorians, selling 734 copies in its first week of publication. Not least because I think most people have been missing the point. The real question is not how it came to sell so few copies, but so many. The book is about why a whole load of men and one woman, Queen Victoria, would, given the chance, have voted for Brexit. In the publishing world, fora book that secured only a £12,500 advance to sell 734 copies in the first week is a fairly satisfactory return. Many far better reviewed books struggle to sell that many in the first three months. I can remember getting a hugely excited email from my publisher when I, Maybot sold more than 1,000 copies in its first week. It was like hitting the big time. Of equal interest is just who has bought a book that has been savaged by every reviewer, apart from Andrew Roberts, who is best mates with Rees-Mogg. Here my suspicions turn a little darker, as I can’t help wondering if the author’s family and friends could have played a part. Or even the author himself. Twenty or so years ago, there were rumours that an extremely wealthy author went round the country buying several thousand copies of his own non-fiction book, thereby ensuring it was picked up by papers for review, given prime locations in bookshops, and eventually making the Sunday Times bestseller list (you only need to sell about 1,500 copies at certain times of year to make the top 10). I’ve no idea if this is true, but if it was then it could have been one of the best investments the author ever made as he then – for a while at least – went on to become a brand in his chosen field.

Friday

Yet again a sledgehammer is used to crack a nut when it comes to mental health, as the Royal College of Psychiatrists again rewrites its guidelines. This time it is to suggest patients are being kept on antidepressants for too long and that they should be weaned off gradually to avoid some of the side-effects of withdrawal. The last bit of advice I have no problem with, having previously experienced some horrendous withdrawal symptoms. It’s the idea that there is a default, one-size-fits-all regime for prescribing antidepressants that bothers me. Obviously it’s ideal if a patient is only on antidepressants for a short time – and if that works, then well and good – but doctors shouldn’t feel obliged to make everyone fit that paradigm. For years, I kept coming off my meds because I believed not to do so was somehow a failure – a sign of moral weakness – and each time, sometimes after a matter of months, sometimes a year or so, I would suffer another crippling bout of depression. Eventually, after a long conversation with my shrink, we decided it would be best to remain on my antidepressants permanently. This hasn’t made me immune to further episodes of depression, but it has made them more manageable. The best treatment for mental health is pragmatism not dogmatism. It’s whatever it takes to get you through the day. And this weekend I might need more help than usual as Spurs are playing in the Champions League final in Madrid for the first – and possibly only – time and I have contrived to miss it. So if you see me at the Hay festival, please be kind.

The digested week: The 12 horse – and counting – Tory race to secure the votes of 0.27% of the electorate.