Celebrate!

I won’t be going to the celebration on January 31^st – I just don’t do that sort of thing - and I really couldn’t care either way about Big Ben or fireworks; they can do their damnedest to dampen spirits, but then they are missing the entire point. Spirit isn’t encapsulated in pyrotechnics and bongs. To the half of the country (actually considerably fewer) who steadfastly refuse to countenance marking the latest Brexit Day, I have to ask: Why do you care? It has nothing to do with you. Stay at home, drown your sorrows, but don't imagine for one second that your petulant cause is noble.

It is continuity remain, as if there was still a cause to fight for. They’re all out there: Yasmin Alibhai Brown’s sour-face performances on – well every fucking chat show in the land; Femi, who imagines he still has relevance; that idiot Lib Dem peer who sees 1930s Germany in his stupid fat head and all the minions who will attempt to overthrow any celebration by demonstrating in the hope they can provoke violence from the leavers in order to prove their thesis. What is wrong with you all?

They are afraid, of course, that the nasty, small-minded, Union Flag waving xenophobes will be out there to gloat. Well, why not let them gloat for one night? It’s not like you haven’t spent the best part of four years daily hurling invective, decrying motives and generally behaving like pantomime villains pretending to be princesses. You are baffled by why we want to leave, we get that. Whenever we have explained what sovereignty means to us you have refused to accept its value. We know you are afraid, when we are optimistic; we know you are filled with hatred, while we just want to help you come to terms. But for pity’s sake, just give us one day.

But this is a part of a wider battle. It wages daily across the airwaves, on the internet, in the grand houses of western government and quite keenly in the mosques and madrassas of the developing world; death to the west. Don’t upset the ethnics, we are told. Don’t mention Christmas in case it upsets muslims. And don’t you dare use your white privilege (which only people of colour and the enlightened can see, of course) to mount any kind of platform. Anything ‘not British’ is to be celebrated and every ethnic festival receives a warm and heartfelt tweet from Jeremy Corbyn, whose life work has been to bring down the country and the system which gave him everything.

Who needs fireworks?

The socialist rallying cry used to be “Workers of the world unite – you have nothing to lose but your chains!” But you simply swapped one set of chains for several others. Over the last few decades an ideological opposition to every freedom gained by the advancement of the west has been denigrated as somehow being at the expense of the rest. Well it just isn’t true. So if you wish, get out there and celebrate this latest new freedom; freedom from remote, foreign government; independence. Resist, overcome, enjoy and sound a new battle cry: “Brexiteers of the world unite - you have nothing to lose but your shame!”

Apocalypse Not Now

Parliament goes off on its holibobs and Project Fear has a spring in its step, I see. When will all the wailing end? You’d like to hope that when the sun rises, as surely it will, on Saturday, 30th March, 2019 the Remainers will rub their eyes, blink and decide to take those first few bold steps into the future, but I fear it won’t be so. Dominic Grieve has been warning of famine and fever; that food and medicine will run out within weeks and pestilence will stalk the land. Death will surely follow... Others, such as John Major have preached that we should confess our sins that we be forgiven and allowed to re-enter the Kingdom of Euro-Heaven via a ‘second’ referendum. The prodigal will be received back into the fold and fêted as a returning hero.

It’s all sounding terribly biblical – Old Testament, naturally - and they are warning of nothing less than the coming of the Four Horsemen and the end of days. Abi Wilkinson (yes, her) now exiled to Washington DC, has literally tweeted that very sentiment, although I couldn’t tell and really couldn’t be bothered to find out whether she meant Brexit or Trump. But have no doubt, evocation of those pale riders still has the power to chill malleable minds and you can be sure Theresa May will be busily picking away at the first of the Seven Seals during the Parliamentary recess.

But, being good old, stalwart, bloody-minded Tommy Atkinses we will pick up our rifles, recover our phlegmatism and soldier on. The Remainers are whipping themselves up into a frenzy, sensing blood and victory, but we’ve been here before and when the vainglorious projects of our ‘betters’ become shitstorms of iniquity and finger-pointing failure, somebody has to steer a course to calmer waters. Because we Leavers know that our shared world will need rebuilding and we may need to offer kindnesses to the Remainers whose longed for Armageddon will not have occurred. The-Day-After-Brexit will be just like any other day for all but a tiny few.

But they will be furious and cognitively dispossessed when they discover no great calamity has befallen them. They will be distressed that no mayday call need be issued. They will be bereft yet strangely numb that their beloved EU survives, albeit weakened and that it makes not one jot of real difference to them. And in order to realign the evidence with their beliefs they will become – for a while at least (and possibly forever in the case of the Soubry-Graylings) – even more manic in their insistence that the world did, in fact, end and that we are merely waiting in purgatory for the final descent into hell.

10p on the price a loaf of bread will bring them out in ecstatic hives of misery and every single new pothole will be proof – proof! – that we cannot survive Brexit beyond Tuesday. The Queen will pass on the crown, due to Brexit and the lengthening of days as we progress towards the increasingly annual event we call ‘summer’ will be greeted with alarums and the rending of garments. I would not be entirely surprised if some of the more invested resorted to human sacrifice to reverse the horror of... of what, though?

I expect Brexit Day will not even be a bump in the road for most. Millions will awake and not even realise as they carry on in their jobs, their kids continue to go to school and the rain still comes sleeting in. The long history of this bejewelled fortress isle will record Brexit not as the cataclysmic, seismic extinction event the Remainers portend, but simply as the time that Britain went mad and then, just like George III, went un-mad again.

Cliff!

Well, I trust you all had a happy Brexit Day: 'Joyeux Brexite', as I like to say, full irony intended. Of course the day was never going to pass peacefully, a tactic that may have had more impact than the twitterwauling I came home to; sometimes it’s best to keep schtum. If you were attending a noisy street party in Brexit’s honour, or loudly toasting Good ol’ Nige down the pub then you did well to avoid the emergency water cannon action of the eternal party poopers of Remain.

But it would not be fair to let yesterday’s celebrations recede into folklore without taking a moment to thank all the people who brought it about and who are still doing their level best to make sure we don’t backtrack on the deal. The dedicated souls who have put themselves up for scrutiny with scarcely a thought for their safety or sanity. The brave soldiers for justice who openly declared their position in spite of the constant sniping from the opposition; who stood and continue to stand up for what they genuinely believe, despite the constant ridicule.

Yes, I’m talking about the bitter remoaners and their selfless dedication to reminding us just what it was we were really voting against. I’d like to say it was nothing personal but you know that isn’t true; as far as you lot are concerned it was highly personal – you made it that way: Telling me I was too stupid to vote. Saying I had insufficient information to cast a meaningful ballot. Insisting that to vote to leave, as I did, was unpatriotic, in direct defiance of the definition of patriotism.

But that wasn’t enough, was it? You wished me harm. You promised me harm. Daily, you spat threats in the direction of me and my family and every last person who has spent 40+ years under the yoke of your rabid devotion to the ‘progressive’ politics of Euroland. All dissent was quashed by the use of Newspeak, whereby the mildest objection to any imposition was met with accusations of racism and xenophobia. You claimed the minds of the young and moulded them to mimic your warped ideology and turned them against their parents and grandparents.

Not content with impugning our ability to come to sane conclusions you upped the threat level with your cliff edges and your abysses and your hyperbolic prophecies of doom. Look you said, look what you’re doing. Stop hitting yourselves, you bullied. And we stood there and took it all. But with every last blast of vituperation we hardened our resolve. Despite all that the massed, indoctrinated armies of the pro-EU camp still lost. So, thanks, remoaners, for daily reminding us exactly what it was that we voted against. Thanks for that, suckers.

Bye-eee!

If you think we Brexiteers are going to gloat for the rest of the week then rest assured, your wish is our command. But only that one wish, mind. Once we’ve got our breath back from laughing so hard we will be back on our guard, ready to resist as you mount yet more failed campaigns to subvert the process, until the scales fall from the eyes of even those who voted to remain. Was there any other news yesterday? *thinks* Nope. I can’t think of a single thing as broad as that 17.4 million-man grin. As for that cliff edge – look at all the Remain lemmings hurtling towards it.