the abyss

Yesterday it was disbelief and a little fear.  Today it’s anger and more fear.   Chris and Dan and Helen are worried and I feel helpless that I can do little to reassure them.  Anniemay is coping in her own way; she is actively looking for a suitable culvert for us to live in when the apocalypse comes.  Having settled on white paint for the interior “to brighten it up a bit”, she’s struggling to find curved pictures for the walls.

And now the back-tracking begins.

LooseCannon published a thoughtful blip yesterday, including a link of Farage trying to wriggle out of the claim that EU money would be spent on the NHS.  

Boris Johnson now says “.. we cannot turn our back on Europe.  We are part of Europe.”.  

The French, not unreasonably, are saying that if the UK wants to take back its borders,  the border starts at Dover.  Not Calais.  So which part of Europe does Johnson think we’re going to be part of?  Perhaps he means the nice bits.  Where we go on holiday.  Not the uncomfortable or shameful bits.

I hear talk about “working hard to make Britain great again”. Which Britain is that then?  The bit that’s left over when Scotland finally gets its independence and re-joins the EU?  

Or does ‘working hard’ mean us doing all the difficult or unpleasant jobs that migrants currently do.  Conservative MP Owen Patterson has already suggested (apparently) that the migrant problem could be solved by getting pensioners to pick fruit.  I suppose if it really will help make Britain great again, I don’t mind holding a ladder for Anniemay while she clambers up an apple tree.

The brave new world envisaged by the decision to leave now extends to Parliament and Prime Ministers Questions where, in October, we can expect to see The Clown huffing and puffing as he gets a pummelling with a soft cushion by The Woodwork Teacher. 

The only ‘fact’ to emerge from this entire campaign - and it is a fact because I have  proof in the form of this photograph - is that there is a giant fish now swimming up the English Channel and it’s going to swallow us all.  I am fighting the urge to say “I told you so”.