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If you share a similar sense of humour to me, a year ago today you were probably rolling around your living room carpet like a hyena on ecstasy.

The General Election result was in and Theresa May, who’d gone to the polls to secure a whopping mandate, had lost her overall majority, and was left begging a handful of Ulster ­dinosaurs to take a billion-pound bribe to save her political skin.

The woman who’d promised strong and stable leadership was a gibbering wreck kept on as Tory leader only because the alternatives to her were even more dire.

As the ever-loyal George Osborne put it: “She’s a dead woman walking and the only question is how long she remains on death row.”

Well, she’s been there a year now, but it can’t be long before Tory Central Office shoots 5,000 volts through her.

Because even they must see what the rest of the world sees – a zombie government, dead from the neck down, taking a nation paralysed by Brexit into a zombie apocalypse.

I can’t remember this country ever being run by such clueless, back-stabbing cowards, and this as we face the most serious peace-time challenge of our lifetimes.

(Image: REX/Shutterstock)

They offer no ­leadership, ideas, policies, solutions, credibility or belief other than surviving for survival’s sake.

All energy has been sucked out of the Government by the Brexit debacle and replaced with fear as vultures on the right of May’s party and in the media wait to feast on her corpse if she goes against their hardline wishes.

Externally, Donald Trump walks all over us (even refusing to give May a formal meeting at the G7 summit) and Russia ignores us.

Europe is laughing at us and the rest of the world we are supposed to be forging trade deals with is thanking Liam Fox for taking them to dinner before shrugging and getting on with their lives.

Internally, as the country grows more unequal by the day, we are losing the will to tread water.

As those who rule us fail to grasp the very basics of governing, it feels like Britain is drifting towards intensive care with no guarantees we’ll stay alive due to eight years of austerity which has crippled the NHS.

(Image: REUTERS)

Even more worrying than the hapless May is the calibre of chlorinated chickens who could replace her.

Chancellor Philip Hammond – who looks like he steals bodies in the night – personifies her Cabinet’s deathly pallor.

Chris Grayling showed as he tries to defend his ­shambolic handling of our collapsing railway system, that a toilet brush possesses more brains and charisma.

Words that could be applied to that equally bumbling mediocrity Jeremy Hunt who, despite inflicting more grief on our hospitals than the Luftwaffe, this week bizarrely became the longest-ever serving health minister.

There’s Boris Johnson, knifing his leader in the face as he tells his Thatcherite fanbase the country is heading for “meltdown” and we’d be better off led by Donald Trump, and Jacob Rees-Mogg who believes England’s fortunes waned when serfdom was abolished.

Or Michael Gove who, in a week when it was revealed four million Brits had used foodbanks, accused the poor of eating badly not because they’re skint but because the selfish gits choose “solace”.

And then there’s David Davis, the weekend SAS man in charge of ­disentangling us from Europe, who has just been caught admitting he wasn’t appointed to that task because of his “intellect”. Which backs up the observation of former Vote Leave director Dominic Cummings that “DD is thick as mince, lazy as a toad and vain as Narcissus”.

A year on from the hilarity of seeing the Maybot publicly short-circuit there’s little to laugh about. Little to reassure us that we’re not heading for a zombie apocalypse.

Still, at least we’re getting that third Heathrow runway which should give more of us a chance to escape.