Le Brexit y L’Exit



Le Brexit y L’Exit.

It’s hot here.

Bloody hot, nudging 40 degrees, and humid; even the Spanish are complaining.

I’m back in Marbella after a couple of weeks in the UK and I find myself actually quite looking forward to my next trip back to Blighty on Tuesday, for one of the few remaining good things about life in the UK: a Lord’s test match.

This blog was going to take the form of a minor rant about something that drives me mad in Spain — dog shit — but instead it’s going to be a major rant about Le Brexit, and a very brief one about L’Exit.

The Spanish are confused and even a little hurt by the unexpected result of the RTSNHB (Referendum That Should Never Have Been — I’ll come to that in a moment).

So much so that I’m almost tempted to have a Tee shirt printed that reads: I’m Not One of Those Idiots who Voted to Leave. However, that would draw attention to the fact that I’m British and, right now, being British is actually something I am rather ashamed of.

I’m sorry, but if you voted to leave, you’re not going to like this blog.

Because in my opinion, the only people who voted for Brexit, were the Very Old (*see footnote) and the Poorly Educated. And, of course, all southerners.

Let’s take the Very Old first.

Mr and Mrs Old have never liked the European Union. It’s part of the ‘Wogs begin at Dover’, and ‘I’ll always drive a Rover’ culture that has been ensconced in their psyche since they bought their last pair of Velcro-fastened white Reebok trainers in 1973 when we joined the Common Market.

I am seriously considering standing for Parliament and bringing a Private Members’ Bill to deny voting rights to anyone over the age of 65. The reason for this (don’t get me wrong — I have nothing against older people and am knocking on a bit myself) is that their numbers — and here I could make the comparison with migrants — are swelling as we live longer, to the point that they now hold a disproportionate amount of influence as to how this country is run. It’s called the Grey Vote and politicians place it before all else.

Boris and Nigel — great double act, now rebels without a cause... but what about Trident?

Boris and Nigel — great double act, now rebels without a cause… but what about Trident?

Tom Rutherford complied a statistical analysis for a House of Commons Select Committee back in 2012 bluntly entitled: Population Aging: Statistics. This revealed that back then, 16.9% of the population of the UK was over the age of 65. And with 23.9% of the population being below the voting age, this rather proves my point. I will come back to statistics in a minute, but hold this thought for now: this leaves a mere 59.2% of the population below the age of 65 who are eligible to vote.

Let’s move on to the Poorly Educated. This has nothing to do with class but everything to do with the Murdock Media Empire and Richard Desmond.

Let me explain: I used to go out with a middle class girl called Jenny (not her real name). Her mother, Shirley (sadly her real name) got all her information about what was happening in the world from the Daily Mail.

Women aged between 45 and 55 form the largest segment of the population of the UK, and most of them live in ‘Middle England’, according to the Office for National Statistics .

In other words, there are around ten million Shirleys — that’s around 22% of the voting population, folks — who get their information from the tabloid press. Add this figure to those aged over 65, and this tips the scales with a staggering twenty million — almost half of the voting population. Okay, I accept not all Middle English women are called Shirley and read the tabloids. Some read the Telegraph and I once knew a girl who read the Financial Times.

Okay, what’s wrong with Brexit, I hear you ask? Well quite a lot.

On June 29thThe Press Gazette ran a story highlighting 24 inaccurate newspaper stories that misled the British public.

Bye Bye Nigel — for now. And thanks for everything

Bye Bye Nigel — for now. And thanks for everything

Ignorance and a xenophobic fear of migrants won the day. Informed argument went out of the window, and what grieves me most is that the two principle proponents of the Leave campaign — Farage, at the arse end of the pantomime horse, and Boris at the front — have departed the circus to be replaced by a women whose key priority is to replace Trident. And that is really going to scare the crap out of the jihadists; you know… those fundamentalist nutters who queue up to join Allah by strapping bombs to themselves or hacking to death military musicians.

So what’s all the fuss about and aren’t I just bitter because I live in Spain and the pound is worth diddly-squat?

Let’s be quite clear about this: there should never have been a plebiscite. I don’t agree with

Et tu Boris? We've seen the last of you! Oh no you haven't!

Et tu Boris? We’ve seen the last of you! Oh no you haven’t!

democracy but if we have to have it then our elected representatives should do what they are paid to do: represent us and make decisions based on both quantitative and qualitative information, or heck… even gut instinct; but they are the ones paid to take those decisions and should not pass the buck to a poorly informed electorate whose vote will have as its cornerstone fear and prejudice.

Tony Blair would certainly not have glibly relinquished his career by asking the British public to back him on something they knew nothing about; neither would Mrs T. And just imagine what that old buffer Churchill would have made of it?

Make no mistake, this is the biggest disaster for Britain since the Puritanical Protestant Reformation… you know, when Henry Vlll wanted to get his leg over Anne Boleyn and fill his coffers with Vatican gold.

Thank you Mr and Mrs Old… thank you Middle England Shirleys, and thank you Red-Trousered Southerners, we will be paying dearly for this democratic catastrophe for decades to come.

Private Eye — nailed it, as usual

Private Eye — nailed it, as usual

And that brings me neatly around to L’Exit.

Not much of a surprise here was there?

Unlike Gareth Bale, England football players value the success of their country beneath the success of their club, therefore being knocked out of Europe by the mighty Iceland brings, as a reward, a couple of additional weeks to bask in the sun in villas on the Algarve.

But well done to both Irish sides and salutations to Wales.

Respect is due!

Next blog will find me back to my normal cheerful disposition. I promise.


Hasta luego!

  • Please note that I do not hold elderley Ex-pats to blame for this disaster. You are, by definition migrants, having had the good sense to leave British shores, and therefore unlike to subscribe to this stupidity.




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