Our specialism in Northern Ireland is managing a divided society. We also know about extreme egotism in politics. So, we might be well positioned to understand what is going on in the United States, though it would be presumptuous to advise.
The closest we have had to a Trump figure, I believe, was the Rev Ian Paisley. He was regarded widely as an extremist and an eccentric in his early political career and dangerous with it, but he went on to inspire and motivate a majority within the community he sought to represent.
Now, immediately I single him out as our prime narcissistic irritant others will assume that I am being sectarian, singling out a Protestant unionist leader as worse than any republican, nationalist, or Catholic leader. That's what happens in divided societies: people get dismissed as being on one side or the other and rational discussion becomes difficult. We know this.
Gerry Adams is a close contender and may, indeed, have done more harm, but he was never a great orator and didn't break through to leading the majority of nationalists while he was expounding his most untenable political vision, whereas Paisley did, in Europe at least.
That makes Paisley our Trump, though one essential difference, to be fair, is that Paisley was a believing Christian, of sorts. He was a fanatic, but not a charlatan.
Trump is a classic extremist, uses his showmanship to dismiss coherent political and even scientific thinking as nonsense and wins huge numbers over to his perspective. Over 70 million Americans voted for him last week.
Paisley had the same gift for enthusing a crowd while talking nonsense. He expounded a vision of a Protestant Ulster, by which he meant Northern Ireland. Protestant Ulster was threatened by the Catholic Church, which was behind the IRA. No serious unionist talks about a Protestant Ulster anymore and no historian has ever said that the Catholic Church was manipulating the IRA as a counter-measure against the Reformation.
We have had other loony ideas in play. Bernadette Devlin, in an interview with Playboy, said that we could have an independent, united Ireland supported by our mineral wealth.
Gerry Adams cited the lack of play facilities in Ballymurphy as evidence that the British Empire was still a cruel tyrannical regime.
And even still we have MLAs who refuse to acknowledge that scientific research has created a few difficulties for the reading of the Bible as literal history.
The outstanding achievement of Paisley and Trump was that they could talk nonsense and inspire huge followings. And that was because they were taken seriously by some, not for the content of their arguments, but for the force of their attack on the perceived other. They amplified division that was already in place.
In the United States, there was an obvious dividing line between Democrats and Republicans, essentially urban liberals and rural conservatives.
In Congress, that line is quaintly called the "aisle", as if it separates people in the same congregation, all looking forward, all worshipping the same God of Democracy, all committed to the common good.
And in most divided societies there have always been large numbers, potential majorities, who thought that getting along amicably and not stirring up division made more sense than stoking up latent animosities.
The point at which a divided society becomes untenable and in need of creative remaking is when the two sides of a divide cease to trust each other enough to concede occasional defeat.
In England, politics is divided, too. On one side are the Conservatives and on the other Labour. There are people in each camp who distrust and despise those on the other.
Jeremy Corbyn was reviled by Conservatives, much as Margaret Thatcher was by Labour supporters.
But the difference between division in England and division in Northern Ireland - for now - is that, much as Tories hate Lefties, they will accept them in government if they get the votes that will put them there.
And even the Left will reject leaders it likes, but who are more Left than they think the majority of the electorate will indulge. That was the dynamic that sidelined Bernie Saunders in the US and waved bye bye to Corbyn.
Many people regard Boris Johnson as someone who is as tricky as Trump, but they will rely on the system to replace him rather than take up arms, as, indeed, the Democrats did in America, an approach that was vindicated.
Northern Ireland is different. Nationalists and unionists will not trust each other to govern them, even in the limited way that Conservatives and Labour will, so we have a special formula: power-sharing.
If nationalists could put up with a DUP/Alliance coalition for five years and then have a go at replacing it with a different one and if unionists could likewise accommodate themselves to being in occasional Opposition, then we wouldn't need cross-community power sharing.
But in the US, the tendency is in the other direction. The shocking thing about the presidential election result was how close it was to balanced, nearly equal numbers on both sides.
Currently, Trump is claiming, in effect, that he has been usurped by a coup, which is what a rigged vote is. If he sticks to that claim and many of his followers believe him, then they will likely feel that they have a legitimate right to reverse that coup by whatever means they can.
Much now comes down to whether Trump is having a huff and will get over it, or whether he has a strategy for shaping a political role for himself as a leader in exile, demanding loyalty and planning his return. But it appears now that two halves of America fear and distrust each other and that running all politics as a competition between the two could tear the country apart.
Neither side has sound faith in the electoral system, anyway; the Democrats arguing that the electoral college is unrepresentative and the Republicans that secret forces operate against them to steal votes. What helped here was that our Trump, Paisley, mellowed. It's hard to imagine old Donald having a chuckle about it all with Joe Biden.