I have loads of my words to eat, a feast of kingly proportions.

I don’t know when I started, but it must have been back when I was traveling on the speaking circuit. It doesn’t matter.

This tale of getting it wrong starts in London, where I was asked to address a conference on investing in America. Most of the questions weren’t — as I imagined they would be — about investment and returns on it, or taxes, or the exportability of profits. Instead, the questions were about the U.S. legal system; how litigious we are and what that is like.

My response was that our courts are fair, there is less day-to-day litigation than you might think, and the courts can serve you as well as those who dispute your actions. I said, “Don’t be afraid of litigation. It could be your friend.”

Next stop: New Delhi. The question was how can we get more U.S. investment? My answer: Fix your courts. They are famous for how slow they are to reach a decision. Americans are used to predictable legal speed.

In Moscow, during the halcyon Mikhail Gorbachev days, I was asked about how to get U.S. companies to invest in Russia. My answer: Make sure the courts work fairly and, above all, are clear of politics.

In Ireland, I debated Martin McGuinness, the late IRA leader. It went well, despite my English accent. My contribution was to tell McGuinness that if there ever is a united Ireland, make sure the constitution doesn’t hide anything under the mat (I was thinking of slavery in America) and make sure the court system looks to that constitution, not to politics.

Why am I eating on my words? Why am I shoveling them down my throat by the (Imperial) bushel?

The front page of The Washington Post for July 18 tells the story: Three pieces there add up to up a requiem for American justice.

Exhibit 1, this headline: “In deadly raid DOJ eyes 1-day sentence.”

Exhibit 2: “Thousands here legally have 60 days to leave.”

Exhibit 3: “Brazil judge in Trump’s sights.”

Two of these shameful reports show that neither the judicial process nor the laws of the United States are sacrosanct anymore.

The third shows that the Trump administration not only doesn’t respect our own judicial processes, but also those of other countries.

The perversion of justice isn’t a domestic matter anymore.

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The Trump budget cuts are moving through the system, like a virus. There are clusters of damage and some slow lower infection, but nonetheless are capable of inflicting severe harm.

I was reminded of this when at a Newport Classical Music Festival concert last week, the deputy chairman announced that they needed $40,000 to make up for the termination in National Endowment for the Humanities’ funding.

Now you could argue that Newport Classical will get by, and divine music will continue to echo through the Gilded Age mansions — known as “cottages” — without the government’s help.

But what about less-affluent places where concerts, plays and ramp-on for young people in the arts will be reduced or ended due to a lack of government support?

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Some things take a long  time to invent.

Take cup holders in cars. No technology was needed but it wasn’t until the 1980s that a convenience store chain realized that their hot coffee needed a place of rest in cars.

They came up with a plastic device that hooked over a window. Okay unless you opened the window inadvertently, in which case the coffee or other liquid would land squarely in the customer’s lap. Ouch!

Detroit saw the possibilities and soon you were urged to buy an automobile based on how many drinks could be stowed safely in built-in cup holders during travel. Not to be outdone by Detroit, and all the other car manufacturers, recreational boats were next to secure drinks in holders.

One has to wonder why this wasn’t done in carriages or stagecoaches a long time before the automobile?

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I flew from Rhode Island to Washington this week and I am writing this on my return trip on the train — unquestionably, a superior way of making this trip.

Of course, predictably, the plane was late, but I was feeling smugly superior. I had scored a first-class seat. My wife found me a first-class fare that was cheaper than coach. I think the term of art for this is: Go figure.

For my lucky break up front, I had nice service and a choice of protein bars or Biscoff cookies. For this people pay a lot of money?  Go figure.