‘Always forgive your enemies – nothing annoys them so much.” So wrote Oscar Wilde, who knew a thing or two about humiliation and betrayal.
Yet keeping your dignity when your world is crashing about your ears is no easy matter. Most of us will at some time or another find ourselves clearing our desk – be it professionally, romantically or metaphorically – but what is the best method of resigning from your post?
Should you use the occasion to vent all the pent-up fury and frustration at the unfairness of your lot or is it better to maintain an icy dignity, thanking all the friends and colleagues who’ve just stabbed you in the back?
Well, if you want a masterclass in the do’s and don’ts of saying goodbye, turn on the TV here in the United Kingdom, and within minutes you’ll witness somebody, somewhere, throwing in the towel.
First it was David Cameron. Only 10 days ago his reputation seemed assured. But then came the result of the EU referendum, a roll of the dice that proved catastrophic when the result went against him.
And suddenly there he was, at the doorstep of Number 10, his wife by his side (always a firm indication that the game may be up), announcing his departure.
But this was just the start. On Monday it was the turn of England football manager Roy Hodgson. His team had just crashed out of the European Championship at the hands of Iceland.
If Mr Cameron was stately and puffy-eyed, Mr Hodgson looked dazed and confused. He is known throughout football as a decent man, and there were few who witnessed his resignation speech without feeling some sympathy for him.
But his managerial duties required him to attend one more press post-mortem the following morning, and it was evident at once that his mood has soured overnight.
Now, in the cold light of day, his normally genial persona had transformed into something darker and more fragile.
Curt, tight-lipped and evidently hurting, he opened his speech by saying that “to be honest I don’t know what I’m doing here”.
Well Roy, given your large annual salary, an explanation as to why it all went wrong might be a good start.
Meanwhile, back in Westminster, the resignations were coming so fast you needed a calculator to keep up.
In the Labour party, similarly traumatised by the fallout from Brexit, 18 members of the shadow cabinet resigned in as many hours.
Jeremy Corbyn, the party’s beleaguered leader, stuck to his guns, replacing each mutineer as they waved goodbye.
Yet such was the maelstrom engulfing Westminster just now that one new appointment MP, Pat Glass, herself resigned from the shadow cabinet just two days after taking up the post of shadow education secretary. At this rate the House of Commons may soon have to be fitted with revolving doors.
Which brings us to Boris Johnson, the architect of Brexit and the heir apparent to the political throne.
He was widely expected to declare his intention to join the race to become the next prime minister on Thursday morning. Indeed, as he approached the microphone to announce his candidature, there were cheers of joy from ecstatic supporters gathered to witness the moment they’d waited for.
But Mr Johnson had just seen his main ally, the justice secretary Michael Gove, declare that ,“Boris is not capable of uniting either the party or the UK”, and announce his own intention to stand. Mr Johnson had no choice but to withdraw from the race, thus effectively ending his bid before he’d even declared it.
Goodness knows how many more will have gone before you read this, but it was a former prime minister, Benjamin Disraeli, who famously said of the pursuit of power: “Never complain, never explain.”
Those still leaping, lemming-like, to their doom, would do well to heed his words.
Michael Simkins is an actor and writer in London
On Twitter: @michael_simkins
