To Australians, this result should have seemed inevitable. A left-wing leader, having got closer than anyone expected him to in the previous election, sticks around to fight another, but never quite wins voters over. A right-wing Prime Minister goes to an election promising to fix the problem his party has created. What unfolded in May in Australia has now, seven months later, unfolded in Great Britain.

Like Donald Trump, Boris Johnson can be taken neither literally nor seriously ... the Prime Minister with his dog, Dilyn, after he voted in the general election in Westminster. Credit:AP

The British gave us their model for democracy, and now it seems we have returned the favour.

I arrived in London on Tuesday, to a sky as grey as the one I had left in Sydney. That they were grey for opposite reasons made no difference to the eyes. But election day was alien. No festival-of-democracy, no sausage sizzles or cake sales, no friendly jostling from volunteers – just plain black-and-white signs reading “polling station”. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed.

There were minor signs of life. Wanting to feel the weight of history in my hands, I walked to the newsagents to buy some papers. The woman in front of me was bundling a dozen packets of chips – “election day crisps”, she smiled apologetically – into a bag. I asked if she would be watching or handing out. I don’t think she understood my accent. Instead of answering she expressed the hope she wouldn’t eat them all herself in the anxiety of the day. She was very worried, she said, and then said she realised I might have a different view. She hadn’t told me what her view was. Then she left.