One was involved in a domestic dispute, the other was credibly accused of rape.

The White House/WikiCommons

If some enemy of the United States like, say, Vladimir Putin had come to me ten years ago and asked how to go about destroying America as a global power, I might have laughed and said, “Make Donald Trump the president.” If he’d asked the same about the United Kingdom, my answer could well have been Boris Johnson. It turns out, he didn’t need my advice.

With Johnson on the cusp of becoming the next prime minister of the U.K., the farce is almost complete. Trump and Johnson really are very similar in so many respects, and no self-respecting organization would look to them for leadership even when in dire need. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we don’t have any self-respect left.

Johnson did run into an unexpected hurdle today, though. According to The Guardian, the police were called to his residence to look into a domestic dispute he was having with his partner Carrie Symonds:

A neighbour told the Guardian they heard a woman screaming followed by “slamming and banging”. At one point Symonds could be heard telling Johnson to “get off me” and “get out of my flat”. The neighbour said that after becoming concerned they knocked on the door but received no response. “I [was] hoping that someone would answer the door and say ‘We’re okay’. I knocked three times and no one came to the door.” The neighbour decided to call 999. Two police cars and a van arrived within minutes, shortly after midnight, but left after receiving reassurances from both the individuals in the flat that they were safe.

That’s not the kind of publicity Johnson needs right now, but at least it’s not as bad as the latest rape allegations against Trump, which are credibly described in New York magazine:

The cover story New York published today details an encounter the writer E. Jean Carroll had over two decades ago with Donald J. Trump, in which the then–real-estate mogul allegedly assaulted her in a dressing room of the Bergdorf Goodman department store in midtown Manhattan.

The encounter is believable on every level because of the way Ms. Carroll recalls it, because it’s consistent with more than a dozen other allegations against the president, and because it jibes with his self-professed mode of operation for making unwanted advances on women.

Trump: You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful — I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Bush: Whatever you want. Trump: Grab ’em by the pussy. You can do anything.

That’s effectively what Trump is alleged to have done to Carroll.

The moment the dressing-room door is closed, he lunges at me, pushes me against the wall, hitting my head quite badly, and puts his mouth against my lips. I am so shocked I shove him back and start laughing again. He seizes both my arms and pushes me up against the wall a second time, and, as I become aware of how large he is, he holds me against the wall with his shoulder and jams his hand under my coat dress and pulls down my tights. I am astonished by what I’m about to write: I keep laughing. The next moment, still wearing correct business attire, shirt, tie, suit jacket, overcoat, he opens the overcoat, unzips his pants, and, forcing his fingers around my private area, thrusts his penis halfway — or completely, I’m not certain — inside me. It turns into a colossal struggle.

It gets more graphic and disturbing from there.

These men, Trump and Johnson, aren’t just colossal morons and dangerous demagogues. They’re also cruel and abusive men. Why they’ve risen to the top of the our two countries is a mystery to me. How did we get this sick?