LONDON — Earlier this year in the Spectator magazine, I wrote that this is the first “post-hope” election the notoriously hopeful British people have seen; sour times for this happy breed, once so cheery and resilient, now as overcast as the weather we always took in our stride. The adults are back in the room, and they’ve told us to wipe those silly smiles off our faces, forget about blowing those Brexit-shaped kazoos, and prepare for an era when it’s always winter and never Christmas.