Three days on, and as I haven’t woken up to find I dreamt the whole thing, I think I have to accept that a slender majority of the UK population has voted to leave the EU, and it is going to happen. The fact that numbers of people who voted leave are now saying they only did so as a protest vote because they thought there was no chance of it happening is hardly comforting. Nor is the fact that there are growing reports of people being being told to ‘leave’ or ‘go home’ exactly reassuring. I wished I could remember Lenny Henry’s repatration gag about about how much it cost to get home to Dudley. Anyone got a link to it?
I want a badge that says I am one of the 48%, or perhaps the hashtag started by Jo Rowling #theindecentminority in response to the Farago saying it was a victory for decent people. As a London Remain voter I find myself now dismissed as a wealthy Prosecco swigging loft dweller who enjoys diversity as an exotic background to my rarified life and has no understanding of how ‘ordinary’ people live. I do swig Prosecco occasionally, but the rest is very wide of the mark.
Power Monkeys raised bitter smiles from me late on Friday evening while MasterB reacquainted himself with the garden and checked out the smells left by new cats in the neighbourhood. In time maybe I can rewatch the whole series and it’ll make me laugh again. Right now, I think I’d cry. Though I just rewatched this from a couple of weeks ago and laughed again, so maybe I should just head to Channel 4 on demand right now.
So long as Andy Hamilton and co keep writing there is some good in my country. And tomorrow I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue returns to Radio 4 for a new series.
Back to the Brexit emotions. One of the moments on the news that got to me the most was when President Hollande announced, in a good speech I felt, that la Grande Bretagne was no longer part of the EU. He should have said le Royaume Uni, or has it been decided that Northern Ireland can stay? It was a speech that I should have liked the politicians in this country to make.
Nicola Sturgeon has suggested the Scottish Parliament could throw a spanner in the works by refusing to agree to departure, and more than three million people have signed a petition started before 23rd June demanding a rematch if certain criteria were not met. The person who started this petition voted Leave and is now furious that it has been hijacked by Remainers. I think that is quite funny. Until Angela Merkel spoke up saying the UK should have some time to sort itself out, it seemed that the rest of Europe was going to demand the keys back tomorrow. These two songs started going round my head:
and this for the Remainers
For most of Friday I wanted to rewatch Passport to Pimlico
and for London to declare unilateral independence, but by last night I was just depressed. I wondered, still wonder, what the Brexiteers think they voted for and how this is all going to pan out. I fear seeing my country lurch dangerously to the right and the rise of neo facism; I hope that we can build something positive out of this mess.
Today the sacking of Hillary Benn and the resignations of rising numbers ofthe Opposition front bench leaves the future of Jeremy Corbyn and the Labour party in question; there’s been lots of febrile discussion about who might be in the running to lead the Tories, none of whom look in the least fragrant to me, but please please please don’t let it be Boris. He was a dreadful Mayor of London, goodness knows what straits we’ll be in if he is PM. Just don’t even mention the Farago.
So much of the music I listened to in the early 80s now seems to resonate; the Specials, the Selector, the Beat, the Clash. The UK could be broken into its four pieces, so I think the most appropriate song for tonight is Billy Bragg’s New England.