Friday 8 April 2016

Sir,

I’m having problems trying to visualise an image that encapsulates the Brexit campaign. Is it Nigel Farage, forever at war with the people who ‘democratically’ pay his wages? No. Is it passionate, One Nation, compassionate Iain Duncan Smith – a crocodile who weeps violently at the plight of antelope in the scorched plains of Africa? No. Is it “we’re more intelligent now” Nigel Lawson? No. I know: it’s Brexit Lord Kitchener.

Brexit Lord Kitchener: “Your country needs you! Not for your young innocent lives to be senselessly slaughtered in a war founded in the principles of Monarchy and hereditary rule and privilege; but, instead, for your futures to be lost in the senseless, prejudiced principles of modern British jingoism.

Innocent, yet informed British young: “But Lord Kitchener, can’t we have a say on our own futures? After all, in a decade or so, and forgive us for saying so, you’ll all be dead, while we’ll be left with no jobs, no homes and a shit future, pardon the French, I mean the language, your honour.”

Brexit Lord Kitchener: “How dare you! No you can’t. You have to put your trust in backward, moustachioed jingoists who have our – I mean your – interests at heart, as Britons have always done. Aren’t you aware of our recent revisionist history? We decide our history, not history, for goodness sake! I’ll steer this good ship Britannia to a glorious blue-sea-trading future; a ship, incidentally, that’s even greater than the good ship Titanic.”

Innocent, yet informed British young: “Sir, the ship is sailing towards a huge prejudiced iceberg.”

Brexit Lord Kitchener: “Stop scaremongering. We’ve had enough of that from you people. Second Officer Gove! Where is First Officer Lawson?”

Second Officer Gove: “He’s in his quarters being seasick, Sir. He thought we’d be wise enough to plough through the waves straight.”

Brexit Lord Kitchener: “Never mind, put these annoying young people in the hold, Gove.”

Second Officer Gove: “Of course. Right away, Sir. Getcha!”

….The horrendous wailing and shrieking sounds of a great national tragedy soon follows, where young, yet informed, innocent lives are lost – again.

Little Girl in bed: “That was a funny story, Daddy. Did it really happen?”

Daddy: “I’m afraid so, love. Hush now. You need to go to sleep.”

Little Girl: “Why Daddy?”

Daddy: “So you can concentrate and pass all your exams at school.”

Little Girl: “But why do I need to pass my exams at school, Daddy?”

Daddy: “So you can work in an Amazon warehouse or at McDonald’s when you’re older.”

Little Girl: “Will I get to eat the burgers, Daddy?”

Daddy: “No, love. Go to sleep now.”

Little Girl: “Are you coming to my school play tomorrow, Daddy?”

Daddy: “Afraid not, love”

Little Girl: “But why, Daddy?”

Daddy: “Because I’ve been asked to work again at short notice at the factory, and if I don’t, they said I won’t be asked again, and we’ll lose our home and be turfed out on the street.”

Little Girl: “But I saw a funny-looking bald man on the telly saying that if you worked hard in our country you would succeed.”

Daddy: “So did I, love. Tomorrow I’ll tell you why we read Fairy Tales, and I’ll tell you about a mythical place that really exists where all the people who live there – called equal citizens – are cared for and work together under a common cause of liberty, equality and fraternity. Goodnight, love.”

Little Girl: “Can we get a garden, Daddy?”

Daddy: “After we get a bathroom, love. Goodnight!”