Brexiters rejoice as Lord Kitchener joins the Leave Campaign
Friday 8 April 2016
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 – again, 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!”
An important referendum announcement
Friday 19 February 2016
I am writing to inform you of an important referendum that is due to take place that you may have heard about. On the first day of this year, that is Friday 1 January 2016, I informed my family of my decision to hold a referendum on whether or not I should be allowed to go skiing without them this winter or next. Well, as you can imagine they were flabbergasted and aghast. I informed them that the referendum was in the best interests of the family in terms of increased productivity, unity and social cohesion. To this I was sure they would agree. I pledged that I would work tirelessly in the coming months to get the best possible deal I could for the family.
Aware that the negotiations would be fraught, my preference for the date of the referendum was June 23 so I could wrap it up and get on the slopes this winter. There I would traverse the Alpine vistas with a hip flask of fine English whisky and music streamed to my ears: Rage Against the Machine’s ‘Wake Up’, no wait, Ultravox’s ‘Hymn’, ‘the power and the glory, till my kingdom comes’ and ‘Love’s Great Adventure’, ‘I spoke a million words, they didn’t mean that much to me’; and in the bars at night I would drink litre glasses of Kronenbourg (is this ok, Lynton? Perhaps John Smiths?), whilst innocently watching smiling Swedish girls gyrate on the dance floor.
In anticipating my family’s shock at the announcement I informed them that this was a historic moment as they had never taken part in a referendum of this kind and had never had a say. I think they really appreciated this. Unfortunately our youngest, 5, cried when she realised she was too young to vote, but I explained that the referendum was about grown-up things and that my absence for two whole weeks would not effect her in any way.
For the next two months I negotiated tirelessly in the public houses around where I live, with some even further a field, often, and exhausted, not arriving home until the early hours. On this I tried to get the best deal I could for Briton (Bethany, my wife). I fought for Briton. I battled for Briton. Eventually I negotiated what I truly believe was a deal that is best for Briton and which achieved everything I set out to achieve.
I didn’t want any thanks, I explained to my family. I would leave that to history and the Evening Standard. I informed them of the details of the deal and recommended that they vote yes at the referendum. Briton was at first unsure that the deal really was the best for Briton, and my eldest was a sceptic from the word go, until I reminded her of the new bike she would get for Christmas. Roll on Alpine vistas.
See you at the next referendum.
James Montgomery Briton,
Confessions of an ex-Eurosceptic
Tuesday 19 January 2016
Something amazing happened to me at the weekend. You’re not going to believe it.
But first I have a confession. I used to be a Eurosceptic. I’m not talking of the wishy-washy, half-boiled, half-cocked type. I’m talking a fully fledged, rabid Eurosceptic. For instance, I used to expel spittle when reading the Daily Mail’s (my favourite newspaper’s) coverage of the EU. I used to pound my fist on the table while eating my rare, blood-weeping steak whenever some biased story of the EU came on the BBC. I used to bask in a warm admiring glow whenever Daniel Hannan appeared on Newsnight. So too did I used to enjoy a fine advertise-branded cigarette whenever Paul Nuttall graced the Question Time roadshow, saying it how it is, in people’s minds, with panache and simple, straight-talking level-headedness, together with a three-quarter Eurosceptic panel (that’s better BBC, I used to think), twitchingly relaxed about the EU question sure to be raised.
On Saturday I found myself in my local library. Don’t ask me how it happened – it’s far too amazing to believe. Whilst in said establishment I happened to cast my eyes upon a book on a shelf. Brazenly written down the book’s white spine were the large blue letters: “The Real EU”. Ha, I said to myself, now I can confirm what I always knew about that disgusting, leeching organisation. I pulled it from the shelf and perused the blurb: “An unbiased (that’s biased, I thought), accurate account of the European Union”.
I sat down and prepared to have all my beliefs confirmed. Whilst reading I began to feel more and more uncomfortable. I felt stifled and became hot. Then I read something that left me gasping for breath:
“Not a single person in EU institutions votes on or amends EU law who is not elected. In the UK there are 760, more than the entire elected European Parliament of all member states.” There was even a source to confirm this monstrous lie, (http://www.parliament.uk/about/mps-and-lords/about-lords/lords-types/).
Well, I can’t tell you how I felt. I was shaking and in a state of shock. Could this be true? I was angry. Very angry. Furious. I don’t know with whom. Could it be that I had been lied to by my most cherished institution of all things English?
I couldn’t breath. I had to get out. I didn’t even put the book back. On the way home the realisation dawned on me. I began to feel better. A lot better. In fact I felt liberated. I felt young and freed from the yoke of bitter animosity. I began to skip. It rained but that didn’t dampen my joy. I jumped and sang over puddles like Gene Kelly. I can’t tell you the relief I felt. I felt like a young man again where everything is possible.
Now I have given up the Daily Mail and it’s better than giving up smoking.
To Britain and all ex-fellow Eurosceptics, I hope you see the light.
I’ve enrolled on Yoga and Latin dance classes, but I do still enjoy a steak and a glass of wine or two. I am still normal.
Breaking news to leave Pro-Europeans quaking in their boots
Friday 22 January 2016
A story has just broke that will have pro-EUers quaking in their boots and Outers in rapture.
The Telegraph: “Senior Executive (analyst) at UBS says Britain’s financial centre will not be affected by Brexit.” (http://www.anotherloadofrichcrap.com)
The Daily Mail: “Somebody in a bank says Britain’s financial centre will thrive after Brexit.” (http://www.frothinghysteria.com)
Ukip’s Press Office: “A milkman says we’ll get more presents at Christmas.”(http://www.womenaren’tslags-noreally.com)
The Sun: “EU to ban us leering at our bEUtiful assets.”(http://www.we’llturnoutthelights.com)
Drawbridge Britain here we come.