by John Ward
Sometimes, we have to desist from valour in favour of discretion. The Parliamentary, media, EU, Leftlib and Whitehall élites are not going to let any meaningful (today’s new word for pointless) form of Brexit happen. If they can’t terminate the foetus or strangle it at birth, they will starve it, cripple it and spit at it such that it stands no chance of reaching adulthood with any self-esteem. I’m coming round to the view that we should let them have their way, and then leave the Eunatics to face the consequences. There are, after all, much bigger storms gathering elsewhere.
I haven’t blogged before on this particular aspect of the Brexit that never was, because the last thing I wanted to do was rain on the Leaver Parade. But as the élites and their 48%er Moonies are happily urinating on the parade, I might as well get this off my chest.
Whatever happens at this, the eleventh hour, the United Kingdom is irrevocably divided as a Nation State for the foreseeable future. However things pan out over the coming month, the last three years or so have demonstrated beyond any reasonable doubt that the Remain camp will never surrender. If some form of Brexit goes through, everything will be Brexit’s fault. If there’s an extension leading to more uncertainty and fudge, that too will be Brexit’s fault for upsetting the apple cart. If there is a Second Referendum on EU membership, that too will be Brexit’s fault – whatever the result.
The best thing to do is smile at the illogic of it, and move on. It’s hard not to smile at the concept of blaming something that hasn’t happened yet, but what I’m suggesting is that we all remain dignified on our “side” and smile irritatingly at clowns like Polly Toynbee, Lord Adonis, Will Hutton et al ad nauseam….because they will keep on fighting a guerrilla war against independence ad infinitum.
You see, these people desperately need the status quo. So advanced is their ire at having been scared and “inconvenienced” by the ‘Brexit fanatics’ (all 17.4 million of us) their angry response to our victory illustrates in 6,600 pixcel clarity how utterly self-absorbed they are.
My mother Mildred gave birth to my elder brother at home during 1944 in the middle of a V2 bomber raid. Her guardian (my great aunt Lizzie) was left to deal with the emergency until such time as the doctor turned up. It wasn’t an easy birth, and Lizzie (who had no children of her own) was an exceedingly selfish career woman.
As Mum slumped back onto the pillow and took possession of my Brother, Lizzie turned to her and said, “Our Mildred, don’t you ever put me through that again…..and me due to go on me shift as well….I mean, really“.
Every time another Remainer pops up on social media with his blind eye attached firmly to the telescope, I think of Lizzie. The pro-EU troops must have the routine of certainty: they dare not take risks, they must march in unison, for without their Leftlib security blanket, where would they be? Why, under a falling sky chicken licken – where else?
Like the formulaically unfunny young comics on the TV these days, they are somewhat less than bravely fighting for the status quo. And they call us the Little Englanders: as I say, you have to smile.
I don’t like to envisage a Britain in which, by some odd quirk, a new UK independence Party has decimated both Labour and the Tories in an election held against a backcloth of cataclysmic eurozone collapse.
The Remainers will blame Brexit for the collapse of the euro (“it was alright until you lot f**ked it up with your Leaver populism”) and the Momentum Trots will form a front or league or some other such Soviet claptrap against the rise “of Nazis”.
Whitehall, I’d imagine, would at best fell as many obstacles onto the secession road as possible, and at worst flatly refuse to work with the administration. The Pound would plummet, the Japanese would once more break their word about siting factories in Britain, the bond vultures would attack our gilts, the Bank of England Governor would raise interest rates, and NATO would say we were opening the door to Russia. All this too would be the fault of Brexit, and all those nasty old gits and unreformed racists who ought to just slither away quietly somewhere and die. “Things were just fine as they were…why did you have to get in the way and mess it up you reactionary baby-boomer bastards?”
Because you see, the globalist liberal philosophy and neoliberal economics are the Establishment in the West now. Big is Good – “everyone knows that superblocs are the future and it’s good for peace and free trade” – and questioning settled science is bad: so bad, in fact, we need a law to ban non-violent extremism.
Wherever things go and whatever goes wrong, the Remainers will turn round and glare at us yet again.
“Now look what you’ve done”.
Those who want to cling to the apron strings of a slow-growth federalist power bloc with no sovereign accountability, no business ethics, no fiscal morals and a dysfunctional currency are, quite simply, the same people who project Now in a straight line to the Future….because what they want is always more easy on the mind than what is likely. As for the unlikely, that never even gets fed into the model.
They have no voyager gene. They would’ve burned Copernicus, put Da Vinci on the rack, applauded the Spanish Inquisition and bet the farm on Columbus falling off the edge of the world. Anything in fact, rather than have to step outside the stockade and bring home some bacon.
Because their grasp of the future is so fundamentally flawed by fear, they are almost always on the wrong side of history. They were appeasers in the 1930s, Soviet apologists in the 1950s, satirists and Mugabe supporters in the 1960s, Radical chics in the 1970s, SDP in the 1980s, and New Labour in the 1990s. When Miliband lost in 2015, they cried foul. When they lost the referendum in 2016, they were furious. When Trump won in 2016, they were in despair. None of those events gave them the slightest pause for thought about why there had been a backlash. Today they are mad for Yvette Cooper and unlimited immigration.
But it’s not their fault. It’s not their insouciant, half-baked certainty and two year old’s tantrum behaviours that repel the electorate over and over again. Good God, no: it’s populism.
Bad populism. Down populism, get down. Heel populism….you are my dog, I am your master. Behave.
I don’t want to see my homeland torn apart. It might be better for most concerned if it sank quietly and peacefully into oblivion for a few generations. The dust will settle at some point on Brexit, but when the Belgian chocolate soldiers finally melt down, it won’t be the Remainers’ fault. Nothing is ever their fault: they prefer blamestorming to brainstorming.
In one form or another – could be Left, more likely to be Right – British freedoms will be diluted, contrarian views will continue to be discouraged or banned, and all news that questions the narrative will be censored. Anyone pointing this out will be condemned as a fanatic. The EU will get its army, NATO will get its support, and Sino-Russian or South American attempts to counterbalance the petrodollar will produce Pentagon sabre-rattling.
But trust me, three years from now there will be far bigger problems to think about than British sovereignty. Being an independent nation is fine, but the crushing of independent thought is far more serious…..as is the collapse of mercantile globalism on the back of financial insanity and consumer debt.
I will continue to point a ridiculing finger at the bed-wetting liberal élite and its preposterous attempts to legitimise the crushing of a massive popular vote. But for now, the battle is lost. We have no leaders in Parliament, and no affirmative organisation of protest outside the Palace of Westminster. Last night, the Commons voted 502-20 to force No Deal off the table at some point. You can’t fight that – unjust volte-face or not.
I tried to email Brexit Central yesterday. It seems to have no plan of action at all. The email connection is in half-point flyshit type at the bottom of the site – alongside the acknowledgments and the canned celery.
As for Nigel Farage, he is obviously some sexual athlete, because he has given us the longest launch tumescence in British political history. He has, in my view, missed the bus – but whether I’m right or wrong about that, he is not The Answer so many alienated and disgruntled Brits seek. Nobody is – not in this generation.