The Riyadh Test and the Trump Test
We human beings are a lazy crowd and look for quick rules of thumb (“heuristics” as they are called in the philosophy trade) to help us make quick judgments about situations. I have a couple that I use to decide if I’m doing OK.

Most years my wife and I spend a day or two at the Buxton Festival – which I can highly recommend. On two occasions we saw “No Frills”, a trio of lovely young women who dance the flamenco with great skill and an assertive feminine power that is quite bewitching. The accompaniment is not to be sniffed at either. I prefer to see flamenco danced without men, because it allows me to enjoy women being themselves to the full. And that brings me to The Riyadh Test.
The Riyadh Test is simply this. I ask myself, “What would they think of this in Riyadh?” If they answer is that they would hate it, I think that there must be a lot to be said in its favour.

I am blessed with a lot of wonderful friends, and I enjoy quiet pleasures like browsing charity shops with my wife, looking for second-hand books and other bargains; and maybe a coffee and a scone at Costas.
Among my friends is Foggy, whom I’ve known for nearly fifty years. He is the most genuine and sweet-natured person and I feel a glow of warmth simply from being in his company and talking bollocks as we tramp over the countryside dragging an invisible tin bath behind us. After our walks we settle in a pub over a plate of bangers and mash or a steak and a pint of wallop.
The Trump Test is simply this. I ask myself: “Does Donald Trump do this?” He has gold-plated lifts and I have the treasures found in Oxfam shops. His friends are evil, greedy arseholes like Steve Bannon. Mine are people like Foggy who would stand by me in my troubles. Donald Trump is a loser and I suspect he knows it, which is why nothing is ever enough for him.