It’s getting silly now. Like many who voted to leave the
EU I did it for pragmatic, quite straightforward reasons. I don’t have the gift
of prophecy so, unlike so many who proselytise for remaining under the direct
control of a foreign power, I have no idea what the future brings. But I do
have a clear and unwavering picture of my moral, social and political positions
and development over the years. And I opted – given a free vote – to place my
trust in the basic decency, honesty, thrift and wise counsel of the British
people themselves.
I have never draped myself in the flag, although I
quietly did my bit by serving in Her Majesty’s armed forces for a number of
years. I have never taken to the streets to demonstrate, for a number of
reasons: One, I have seen the scant regard given to noisy rabbles by the typical
Briton. Two, being English, through and through, I am not given to public
displays of grief, anger or even jubilation; I cling to my British phlegmatism,
proud that it sets me apart from the more emotional Johnny-Foreigner, the behaviour
of some of whom is, frankly. embarrassing.
But more importantly, I have never espoused a cause so
precious that it has been worth my energy and dignity to parade my enthralment to
all and sundry. Yes, I want to leave the EU. No, I don’t expect a return to
empire, nor necessarily any ‘sunlit uplands’ to which I have not directly
contributed. I don’t expect anybody to fight my battles for me (and I recognise
I am fortunate not to need them to) but I also don’t expect anybody else’s
single vote to hold more value than mine. And of course, being British, should
I lose a battle, I quietly applaud my adversary, withdraw from the field and
wait for the next time.
Just because Leave voters are not out in number,
screeching obscenities at Westminster, spitting and snarling at those with whom
they disagree, does not mean that the strength of feeling is any lower, nor
that opinions have changed. Iain Duncan Smith once cautioned: "Do not
underestimate the determination of the quiet man" and right
now it feels as if we are the British garrison at Rorke’s Drift, facing up to
an enemy we don’t recognise; an alien, hostile, noisy and numerous enemy; and
lest anybody think that ‘enemy’ and ‘foreign’ and ‘alien’ are hyperbolic
descriptors, just look at what they intend.
That is no less than the overthrow of an elected, if marginal,
government. The overturning of constitutional procedures which go back
centuries. The dismissal of the monarch’s role and in the process the trashing
of the life’s work of the world’s longest serving and arguably the most
steadfast head of state. And ultimately – for this is the European Union’s
destination – the subjugation of a once sovereign nation to the whim of an
unelected and unaccountable politburo of cronies and cranks with a common
vision utterly at odds with the populations over which they hold sway. For them
to refer to Boris Johnson’s prorogation of Parliament as a coup is an absolute
triumph of doublethink.
Oi! Don't frow them bladdy spears at me!*
So the battle is joined. And while the throng on the
field is clearly that of the aggressor, the invader, the foreigner, parading
their garish colours for all to see, do not imagine there is no resistance to
their aims. We have watched and waited as they beat their drums and bare their
chests. We have kept our powder dry as they have fired off salvo after salvo.
We have rationed our resources as they have laid siege to our motives, our
intelligence and even our patriotism. But we have held steady and now, in the
last scenes of this uncivil war we are waiting until we see the whites of their
eyes.
(*Yes, I know. This ISN'T a genuine quote from the film!)
