We could take a leaf out of Trump's book and shut down the UK Government too, but would anyone even notice?

For the half century or so since Britain chose to look across the Atlantic rather than the Channel for inspiration, we have had to endure every American fad from the Pet Rock to blind worship of the unfettered free market.

Every fad, that is, except for the only one we could actually use.

I refer, of course, to the US penchant for the government shutdown – the admirable tradition whereby every few years the federal government temporarily ceases to operate due to the failure of Congress to pass spending plans.

Admittedly, this current closure is a little unconventional. Ordinarily, the checks and balances inherent in the US Constitution make a shutdown unthinkable when the President and the majority of both Houses of Congress represent the same party.

Yet these are no ordinary times, and this, as you may gingerly be beginning to suspect, is not a conventional President. With the White House, Senate and House of Representatives all under Republican control, only the stablest of geniuses in the art of dealmaking could have seen to it that no deal was struck.

The tangerine huckster did so deliberately, tweeting his desire for a shutdown weeks ago in the belief that it would help him politically. Although his son Eric candidly posited on Saturday that this certainly is “good news” for his dad, that seems unlikely. A plurality of Americans blame Trump Sr (and his mesmerisingly sycophantic Republicans) rather than the Democrats. God knows why. My best guess is that he tweeted he wanted it weeks ago, and then blatantly did whatever he could to bring it about.

While Trump rants over his Filet-O-Fish high tea about missing his inauguration anniversary bash in Florida, and leaders of both parties frenziedly shuttle between meetings relishing the melodrama, the lack of enthusiasm on this side of the ocean is disappointing.

Just this once – literally, just this once – I really want to hear from Boris Johnson. Traditionally the first greyhound to leave the traps when it comes to sucking up to Trump, Boris has so far been the dog that hasn’t barked.

This very day, he has an article in the Sunday Telegraph helpfully explaining why we should welcome a state visit from Trump. Along with the mandatory “closest ally” drivel, the alleged Foreign Secretary suggests that, far from being an isolationist, Trump’s fabled humanitarianism has driven him to help the suffering people of Muslim countries in the Middle East.

Anyone who reads this hagiography will feel a proper Charlie for misunderstanding Trump. All that’s missing are words of praise for his hero’s closure of his government, and an accompanying demand that Britain shows proper respect by having one of its own.

If our Government did shut down, it’s true that the natural reaction would be Dorothy Parker’s question on hearing that Calvin Coolidge was dead: How could you tell?

The classic template is Belgium, which from the summer of 2010 went a world record 589 days without an elected government until a coalition was finally formed. Life in brave little Belgium continued much as before during those almost 20 months, albeit many citizens thought it an improvement.

If Boris were to orchestrate a Westminster shutdown in solidarity with his spiritual father in Washington, you assume it would be the same story.

Not having a government to give huge contracts to companies it knows are failing would be a sacrifice, of course, but it’s one most of us would be prepared to make.

As for Brexit, who would you want in charge of that? David Davis, the blank-eyed Joey Tribbiani of the negotiating table? Or some nameless, faceless Whitehall mandarin capable of understanding a complex brief and mastering the fine detail?

That apart, in purely practical terms most things would be identical. Reshuffles wouldn’t really happen, as they don’t really happen now. The non-government would come no closer than this apology for a government to curbing excessive executive pay, rescuing clinically underfunded parts of the NHS, improving social mobility, giving adequate help to victims of the Grenfell Tower fire, or achieving any other of the insincere aspirations it likes to present as solemn commitments.

The one material difference would be the tranquility. As now, beyond the familiar day to day crisis management, nothing would get done. But it would not get done in peace and quiet.

Imagine Michael Gove, supercilious Beavis to Boris’s blethering Butthead, forcibly silenced by lack of a bully pulpit. Being spared his opinions and accounts of his relentless machinations would be nightingale song in a grateful nation’s ears. Imagine news bulletins cleansed of the terminally obtuse bragging dementedly about their clarity.

You may say that I’m a dreamer, but I can’t be the only one glancing 3,000 miles due west and feeling the acid of envy bubbling up past the oesophagus. We haven’t had anything faintly worthy of the name “government” since last June, and there is no prospect of this wretched stasis ending before a more decisive general election result than the last. Why not build something concrete on Boris’s airy homage to the great humanitarian in the Oval Office by making it official?