Up until now there has been a certain amount of clever calculation in letting Trump be Trump. His instincts have helped reconnect the Republican Party with its base. Part of that has been through his use of Twitter. His tirades, that odd “covfefe” moment and the idiosyncratic spelling were all part of the authenticity. The tweets provided a window to his brain, something that could not be controlled or deleted by spin doctors.

But now he is ill-served by that freedom.

Even Trump supporters suggest they have had enough. Interviewing his fans for his 100th day in office, many told me they wished he would cut out the embarrassing tweets – those wild allegations that his office was bugged or the snide boasts about his election win.

This morning, as he uses death in London to push his own political agenda, authenticity is his undoing.