Donald Trump’s use of Sinead O’Connor’s music wasn’t just wrong – it felt violent
If we know one thing about Donald J Trump, it is his predilection for seeing something he wants and attempting to grab it. I picture the 45th president – and possibly the 47th, too – a pink-fisted toddler, sticky with rage, forever reaching out towards pussy, elections, classified files; foundation funds, Theresa May’s hand, the fundamental concept of truth. For much of his life, the approach has served him well. But of late, the path between Donald and his desires has been obstructed by a bothersome array of legal cases and an FBI investigation. Then, this week, the presidential candidate encountered his latest hindrance: the Irish singer Sinead O’Connor.
