So Britain doesn’t, after all, want to be run by an antisemitic, terrorist-supporting Marxist and his gang of nasty, aggressive, intolerant, historically illiterate Social Justice Warriors who think the only problem with Communism is that it hasn’t been tried properly yet…

Who would have thought, eh?

Well, I did, for one. I’ve been calling a big Conservative win ever since this general election was announced: not because I’m Nostradamus but because it seemed to me that all the Tories’ stars were so obviously in alignment.

Unelectable Opposition led by crabby hard-left ideologue with very dodgy friends? Check.

Charismatic, entertaining, optimistic former Mayor of London, household name, with track record of winning elections? Check.

Massive public desire to Get Brexit Done? Check.

Tory party united behind a common goal? Check.

Voters — especially the working classes — just sick of rampant PC? Check.

Ruthlessly effective Tory election machine? Check.

But just because it was inevitable doesn’t stop it being an amazing result.

Maybe a Corbyn victory was never a likely possibility, but that wasn’t how it felt yesterday when all manner of polls and rumours were predicting all sorts of strange things and even the most unflappable among us began wondering whether the time had come to pack our bags for Costa Rica or Switzerland or frankly anywhere where John McDonnell wasn’t going to be Chancellor and Diane Abbot Home Secretary.

Had these people won, it really would have been curtains for Britain. (And the markets knew it: which is why sterling plummeted yesterday on rumours of that Labour stood a chance).

When it first became obvious that the Conservatives were going to win a sizeable majority I couldn’t resist tweeting my relief:

But it wasn’t just myself, my friends and family, and my country’s future I was thinking of here. Mainly, I was thinking about the most important reason why this crushing Conservative victory matters so much: the tears and lamentations of the liberal left.

I’m thinking of Lily Allen, the pop star, who claims to have wept for joy when she read Labour’s manifesto.

And crisp salesman Gary Lineker.

And Care Bear Commies Owen Jones, Ash Sarkar, Aaron Bastani, and Grace Blakeley.

And luvvies like Hugh Grant.

And all those myriad woke grime artistes like Stormzy.

It really doesn’t matter whether or not you’ve heard of these people. The point is that today is like the morning in June 2016 after the Brexit referendum result came in, and the day in November 2016 when Trump got elected: all the worst people in the world were really, really, really unhappy; while the rest of us couldn’t be more pleased or relieved.

Yes, I know there’s supposed to be this honourable tradition of being magnanimous in victory.

Seriously, though, how can one have any respect for or charity towards people who were prepared to vote for a party of such manifest wickedness?

When the Guardian wrote an editorial backing Labour, having first made a few token concerned noises about Labour’s antisemitism, I mocked their absurd hypocrisy:

It seemed scarcely credible to many of us that, with the Holocaust still in living memory, Britain’s Jews found themselves in a situation where they were genuinely fearful of their safety and their future under a Labour government. This, I’m sure, is one of the reasons Britain rejected Corbyn’s antisemitic Labour with such vigour and near-unanimity: how DARE you make our Jewish friends unwelcome!

There will be time enough to worry about issues like whether Boris Johnson’s Conservatives will now deliver meaningful Brexit and whether they’ll undo the damage the left has inflicted on Britain since the Blair era.

For the moment let’s just relish the fact that the forces of the right have won a glorious victory over the forces of darkness. And that Britain is not, after all, going to be turned into Venezuela Mk II.

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