We are all familiar with the occasional news items about the evidence of and speculations about how much she despises her pussy-grabbing, misogynist swine of a husband. Now Maclean's magazine has harvested a lot of the evidence and a lot of the guesswork into one helpful but upsetting online essay. It is Anne Kingston's Melania Trump's Lonely One-Woman Resistance.

Anyone who has a heart will find Melania Trump's described plight very upsetting. Anne Kingston makes passing mention of the saying "When you marry for money [as Melania is suspected of doing with her swine] you earn every penny".

Yes, Melania, 47, is earning every penny, married as she is to a brute on the record as saying that women over 35 are superfluous to mankind.

Back to the newsworthy Joyces and Trumps in moment. But to digress a little, the coincidence of the Joyce imbroglio with some other largely ignored breaking news has reminded me of my own chronic lack of news sense. How that sad disability has hampered my journalistic career! It has denied me the mantelpiece of Walkleys I would otherwise have accumulated by now!

For, in my tragic inability to recognise true news when I see it, I've been expecting the news of apparent proofs that Shakespeare was a plagiarist to eclipse all other news. Were I a news editor, I would at the moment be burying the relatively unremarkable (relatively unremarkable to me) news of yet another male politician's flesh-driven sins somewhere at the back of the paper. I'd put the Joyce trivia away next to the astrology column and the greyhound racing fields, so as to make room in the paper for more of the Shakespeare news.

The Shakespeare news (given some passing prominence in The New York Times in the story Plagiarism Software Unveils A New Source For 11 of Shakespeare's Plays) seems momentous for the whole Shakespeare-worshipping, Bard-influenced world. By contrast, the Joyce news (of yet another man derailed and made a fool of by sex) is only a passing, here-today, gone-tomorrow thing. Shakespeare might say (albeit having stolen the words from someone else) that the Joyce news seems just another "insubstantial pageant" of everyday politics.

But back to Anne Kingston's piece and mention of one delicious item it gives a link to.

As background I pose you this question: One day when we wake from the nightmare of the Trump presidency, what will we nominate as the best piece of anti-Trump satire, the best anti-Trump insult that helped keep us sane and laughing during his horror-pocked presidency?

Perhaps it will be the sophisticated, snobbish (but fair) put-down given the Trumps by the Guggenheim Museum.

When Melania asked the Guggenheim for a loan for the White House of a painting by Vincent Van Gogh the museum declined. It offered instead something else from its collection. It offered (as if to say, "To give you two bogans a Van Gogh would be like giving pearls to swine. Here's something more your taste.") a gold-plated but fully-functioning and flushable toilet suite, a contemporary work by Maurizio Cattelani. With his 2016 work called America, the artist may well have been satirising exactly the sorts of 24-carat facilities known to festoon the Trump's apartment mansion in Manhattan.

So when the unhappy Trumps come to Australia what should we, in the inspired spirit of the Guggenheim, give them as the official Aussie gift that expresses our nation's feelings about them? Give us your ideas, Australia!

Meanwhile I note that there really is, designed and sold by David-Louis Design, a souvenir "Personalised Solid Silver Vegemite Lid" that glamorises a 220g jar of our national yeast extract. A solid-gold one of those, perhaps encrusted with some lurid Australian opals, would not be out of place on the breakfast table in the Trump apartment's mock Louis XIV breakfast room.

In an eerie coincidence in this week in which Barnaby Joyce has been accused of (and has forcefully denied) pinching a woman's bottom, the History Hustle website has sent me the word "callipygian".

History Hustle says this is a 19th century word used to describe someone blessed with "beautiful, well-shaped buttocks". Perhaps men who (unforgivably) pinch women's bottoms find those women irresistibly callipygian. The word is one of History Hustle's designated 20 Awesome Historical Words We Need to Bring Back.

Pouncing on the whole list (for a columnist can never know too many words) I discovered, eerily, words helpful to recurring themes of my columns. So, for example, on the list one discovers with glee the 17th century word "grumbletonians" to describe people who are always complaining about their governments. Most of the letters to The Canberra Times are written by grumbletonians (although till now I have always called them miserabilists), often complaining about our government's visionary light rail project and its failure to mow the city's grass.

Your cheery columnist (perhaps I am a praisetonian, an applaudtonian) has always been in favour of light rail. Even the just-delivered vehicles themselves turn out to have an excitingly sleek and streamlined but bulbous, almost callipygian look.