Over on that Facebook, an Australian asked what’s going on with brexit. I replied and it got a bit long, so I thought I’d share.
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Brexit: The story so far.
In 2016, in order to try and resolve Tory infighting we had a national opinion poll where the public were promised sunny uplands, unicorns and free solid gold houses for everyone. Immediately after the vote it was announced that there was no free money and the unicorn was actually a zebra with an ice cream cone stapled to its forehead. Many people didn’t seem to care about this abject lie because they don’t like foreigners, or something. David Cameron, the dead-pig-molester who started all this and promised faithfully that he’d see it through whatever the outcome, promptly ran away never to be seen or heard from again until he had a book coming out.
Pretty soon after this it was announced that 17.4 million votes was the will of the people and 16.1 million was we won you lost shut up and get over it two world wars and one world cup doo dah queen mum gawd rest her soul. The word “undemocratic” was redefined to mean “anyone who disagrees with us” and billions of new dictionaries had to be printed.
Three years passed, where the government got busy negotiating brexit by having repeated court cases to try and bypass parliament and generally power grab, in between having elections to attempt to pass the poisoned chalice onto someone else.
At a quarter to midnight on the night before her homework was due in, Theresa May agreed a deal with the EU27, arguably a better deal than anyone had hoped possible. She then took it back to parliament who said “don’t like it.” Three times. Largely because her deal was broadly what we have currently, only giving up our seat at the table, which is clearly pointless whichever side of the argument you support. Quite why she didn’t get parliamentary agreement before jumping on a plane, no-one is quite sure. But anyway.
After being democratically voted in by a hundred thousand mostly old angry white men who’d paid for the privilege of doing so (a third of whom had recently been drafted in by a Leave.EU campaign to rig the vote), Boris Johnson then swept in with bold claims about adding an extra 20,000 police officers to the streets (neatly side-stepping the fact that Tory cuts had already cost us 21,000 officers so we’ll still be at a net deficit) and some other fictional bollocks about hospitals or bridges or trains or something. He promised to “get brexit done” in his lunch hour despite the entire cabinet having been paralysed for the last three years, agreed a deal with the EU27 which is basically May’s deal only with all those pesky things no-one wants – like workers’ rights – crossed out, and had that rejected by parliament too because to some it was demonstrably worse than the one they’d already said no to and to the headbangers it still wasn’t brexity enough to make them all multi-billionaires overnight.
Boris promised that he’d rather be dead in a ditch than not leave the EU today. Parliament forced him to ask for a few more weeks, because obviously we can have all this sorted out in a month despite having spunked billions of increasingly valueless pounds up the wall to achieve the square root of **** all for the last three years. Boris did so, with his fingers crossed and a note from his mum saying the big boys made him do it.
So now we get to have this merry dance all over again at the end of January, only Boris has just seemingly called a vote of no confidence in himself so we’ll get to have the third general election in almost as many years to achieve who the hell knows what any more, despite leavers shouting repeatedly since 2016 that we can’t just keep having votes until we get a result we like (because as any fool knows, once you have a vote the democratic process immediately stops dead which is why the Whigs are still in power).
At the point of me writing this, ditches across the country lie sadly bereft of any lying tub-of-lard philandering cockweasels.
I think that about covers it.
