Right now it seems everyone is petrified that Donald Trump’s courtship of America’s intellectually bankrupt will bear fruit, and I suppose there is an outside chance that might happen, but there is also a silver lining draped around America’s cloud of trepidation, because, if he is elected President, in four years’ time those same Americans will get to vote him out again.
Always assuming that he hasn’t diverted the Rio Grande, ring-fenced El Paso, and carpet-bombed Chihuahua, they will also get to elect someone with a modicum of common sense to swiftly repair all those burned diplomatic bridges.
No harm, no foul; just four years of Americans having to sit with their arses twitching and their fingers in their ears.
However, in The United Kingdom we don’t have that same luxury.
With us the damage of the referendum is both deadly serious and permanent, but the Brexit vote is not the only damage that has been done to our nation in recent history.
It seems to me that Britain, and especially England, has lost its way over the last few years. Once we were the empire, upon which the sun never set, but nowadays Britain is an insular country, cloaked in gloom and despondency, a bitterly divided nation of resentment and polarised opinion . . . and it is easy to see why.
In the last few years we have lost our freedom of speech, we have lost our tolerance, we have lost the presumption of innocence, we have lost our democratic process, we have lost our self-respect, we have lost our national pride, and we are about to lose our national identity.
Let’s face it; we’re in a bit of a mess, and I believe it is all because we no longer accept responsibility for any of our faults, ills, or troubles. In today’s Britain it is always someone else’s fault, and that ‘someone else’ is invariably those European bogeymen in Brussels.
Never mind that, when we implemented legislation to stop racism and homophobia, we threw the baby out with the bathwater and silenced the racists and bigots long-held right to freedom of speech. Voltaire was screaming down from the heavens, but of course we ignored him, because he was just another one of those interfering Europeans.
Never mind that, when we started a series of witch-hunts to impose our newly-formed 21st century morality on the 20th century activities of others, and exposed all those shamefully randy celebrities of yesteryear, we paid no regard to the changing fashions of behaviour, and rarely presented so much as a shred of corroborated evidence to a court of law. What’s that got to do with anything, and anyway, all this nonsense about The Presumption of Innocence; we all know they’re as guilty as hell. After all, The Sun, The Daily Mail, and The Daily Express all said they were, and there’s no smoke without fire.
Never mind that, when we send our thugs, morons, tarts, and moral bankrupts on holiday to Europe, they drag our reputation into the same gutter they’ve just thrown up in. After all is said and done that’s Europe’s fault . . . I mean, all those greedy hotel and bar owners are just asking for trouble. All that cheap booze and hot weather when you’re not used to it; bound to get the blood pumping and the juices flowing. They hate us over there anyway; just look at The Eurovision Song Contest.
Never mind that, when we chose our representatives for the European Union, we downgraded the role of MEP’s, treated the European parliament and election process with apathy and disdain, and consequently sent the political dregs of humanity to represent us.
It was never our fault, just as it was never the responsibility of those inadequate representatives, and fifth-columnists like Nigel Farage to thrash out decent agreements, make our case, and stand-up for the country that elected them. . .
Oh no, it was all the fault of those Brussels bureaucrats.
Never mind that the process for leaving the European Union and taking the most important political decision of our lifetime was deeply flawed, unfairly influenced by a shockingly jingoistic media, and undemocratic to the point of farce. It just serves those bureaucrats over there in Brussels right, they brought it on themselves, and at least now we can get our sausages made the right way and then weighed on scales that we all understand.
Never mind that Scotland will probably leave the Union, and in so doing act as a catalyst for the eventual break-up of The United Kingdom. After all, they haven’t liked us and we haven’t trusted them since we gave them a right good kicking up on Culloden Moor. Anyway, they were bound to go sooner or later; might as well be sooner.
Never mind that it will leave England politically and economically weakened, isolated, and disliked by even our closest neighbours. That’s not our fault is it? After all . . . How could it possibly be?
So don’t worry about a thing, mate. We ain’t lost our soul . . . After all it’s still called Dover, ain’t it? And don’t worry about us leaving Europe, either; there will always be someone else to blame. . .
There will be, won’t there?
Have a good one.