Saturday, 25 June 2016
Soon be Monday
Say what you like about David Cameron – and I am as guilty as anybody of slagging the man off in recent weeks – but his measured, if delayed, reaction to the glorious news was exactly right. He blamed nobody, threatened nothing and sucked it up to say it was time now to regroup, rebuild and get back to business. He was also honest enough to understand the mood in much of the country and step down gracefully. The time for fighting is over.
What a shame millions of others could only wallow in their cosseted, wished-for misery. The level of whining butt-hurt out there yesterday was off the scale. And as it was already at a cosmic level beforehand, that was fuckwittery from an alternative universe. Having ramped up the fear and hatred over the last few months how dare the sky not fall in? It was as if they were demanding their homes be invaded by jack-booted Stormtroopers to evict their freezing cold babies into the streets and disappointed that no immigrants had been herded into cattle trucks to be deported... via the ‘showers’.
The BBC did its best to help. In every news bulletin it was reported that the economy had tanked, that it had ‘plunged’ over a cliff and the pound was now worth less than a Weimar Republic mark in 1924. Such cataclysmic reporting had its own momentum, like a supertanker trying to change course; when both Sterling and the FTSE bounced back to show relatively modest changes on the day this went almost entirely unreported, so generation snowflake continued to rend garments, gnash teeth and look for somebody to blame.
In the Labour Party the fault was that of Jeremy Corbyn and his fellows lined up to stab him in the front for somehow telepathically causing former Labour core voters to embrace the hate and become racist Faragistas. Nicola Sturgeon lost no time in pointing out that, just as in sports, Scotland hated England so much they would support foreign rule from any other source. And across the world, from luvvies in Los Angeles to irrelevant, forgotten tax exiles in tropical climes berated the people who live in cold, wet Britain for exercising their democratic right.
But most of all it was ‘the old people’ who took the flak. The old people whipped the rug out from under the country’s youth and condemned generations to penury. It was the old people, who fought wars and rebuilt the country and lobbied for workers’ rights that, having taken advantage of all they had gained, now wanted to pull up the rope ladder after them. It was the vicious, nasty, bitter and twisted old people that want to turn Britain into Nazi Germany. No, really. What makes it all the more delicious is that fully 75% of the 18-25 year olds who are whining about the old people denying them their promised future didn’t even bother to turn out and vote... and of those who did vote, a third of them voted for Brexit.
Man up, snowflake!
But the weekend will come and go. The celebration barbecues will be had, or the wakes will be held and there will be some thick heads in the morning. Then, on Monday it will be business as usual, except for one thing. The future is now entirely in your hands. Embrace what is and stop mourning for the illusion that was. And while the rest of Europe is having its own long dark nights of the soul and the inevitable decline of the EU hastens, be glad that we are on the outside, roll up those sleeves and start digging for victory.