On election night in Budapest yesterday, I was soundly crushed in an underground carriage, crammed in with Tisza supporters raucously celebrating their victory and the downfall of Prime Minister Viktor Orbán. It was as if they had stormed the Bastille, rather than scribbled an ‘x’ on a form.

I’ve been in Budapest for every election since the first post-Communist vote in 1990. I’ve never seen elation like this here, or indeed in any other election anywhere else. Most of the Tisza fans out partying were clearly first-time voters or in their mid-twenties, so for them, Orbán has always been part of the firmament. They undoubtedly have high hopes for the new prime minister Péter Magyar.

I’ve also never seen an election here (or anywhere else) with so much vitriol and so many absurd claims (e.g. ‘Viktor Orban breeds zebras with your taxes’). Hungarians are pioneers and virtuosos in eye-gouging, mud-slinging campaigning. You clear your throat by calling your opponents ‘traitors’ (árulok) or the more specific ‘traitors to the homeland’ (hazaárulok) – but that’s the equivalent of saying good morning – before working up to the carefully prepared juicier abuse.

Everyone apparently was working for a foreign intelligence agency (I was rather offended I........

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