Not even a week has passed since Theresa May’s dear Jaques,Miguel and Joachim missive wended its way into the hands of Donald Tusk, and dear God, they are already threatening to get the muskets, blunderbusses and rapiers out of the Imperial War Museum and retooled for mischief.
The British State really are great at diplomacy, aren’t they? The Brexit Cabinet should just get some tee-shirts made up which say ‘Get angry, get a bulldog, and threaten mayhem’ You’d almost think they were deliberately sabotaging negotiations themselves, looking at the complete horses erse they are making of it.
Clearly the Brexit negotiations are going to be long, pain-filled and arduous at this rate, and by the looks of it every time a member of the European Union says something that they don’t agree with from now on they’ll be wheeling out the gun carriages and photographs of shiny aircraft carriers with no planes onboard.
Dear oh dear. They say old Tories never die they simply privatise away. First it was ‘Tarzan’ Heseltine, harking back to WW2 and his perceived opinion that Europe will now be ripe for German domination without the civilising effect of the UK’s presence. Then it’s Michael Howard ( I can never think of either of these two without picturing the Sunday night Spitting Image versions, the puppets being eminently more sensible than the human versions).
Yes, Michael Howard, smarmy-faced fellow, former Thatcher yes man and acolyte, John Major sidekick, and for a period, head honcho himself of the 1%’s political party, now Lord Howard of Lympne, and still as smug as ever after 7 years of free money from taxpayers on the red benches.
He’s invoking the spirit of the wicked witch of the west and talking of battles old, far far away, using emotive language to stir up battles new, of glorious empire. I remember thinking, all those years ago, why the feck do Argentina want to invade Falkirk? It’s been 700 years since there was a real square go there. Have they been to Brockville? Was it perhaps the Callendar Park pitch n putt course they were envious of? Or maybe they hankered for control of the York Cafe’s fish suppers? Or were they just after control of the refinery at Grangemouth?
Nobody had heard of the Falklands. We were sending a Taskforce to fight a war 8,000 miles away? Eh? The Falkland Islands doesn’t happen to have anything interesting, and potentially highly lucrative, in their surrounding waters do they? Why, coincidentally enough they do. But…. cough cough, it was all about democracy.
Now Howard is getting all ‘Gotcha’ with our Spanish EU partners (who won’t veto Scotland’s entry into the EU) over Gibraltar.
That would be Spain who coincidentally speak Spanish like the Argentinians, says Michael, meaning that Theresa the Appeasa is having to phone Gibraltarian politicians, telling them not to worry, the tanks are on their way if needed, and Michael Fallon is having to bluster all over the Sunday politics shows to appear bullish and upbeat, much to the jaw-opening amazement of EU Commissioners who are scratching their heads and wondering how we got to this in less time than it’ll take the Great Regret Bill to trash 40 years of employment protections.
If this is how they mean to go on it surely can’t be too far away before they decide to pick a battle with the French too, perhaps over a squabble about who gets to chamois the seagull shite off the Greenwich Lightship navigation buoy in the channel once Brexit is completed.
Developments are moving at such a rate that soon you’ll be able to walk from mainland Europe to Dover without touching water, stepping from ship to ship from ships of the Spanish Armada, the French battle fleet, a small Maltese coastal vessel with the words ‘Up Yours’ painted on the side, and, if you watched Sky News Breakfast edition yesterday, huge seaborne convoys of lorry transporters filled to the gunnels with illegal immigrants when the French tell the UK to carry out their border controls in their own country, and not in France (apparently the good people of Dover who voted overwhelmingly to leave the EU are no’ quite so sure now they’ve thought about it and stopped getting their political views-points from the sides of buses).
This can only mean, in the months immediately after Brexit, that we can expect a huge airlift to take place, akin to West Berlin in the late 1940’s, for the central belt of Scotland,other populated centres to the north, and South towards Berwick, blockaded away from its EU partners by the Empire 2.0 Project. We can look forward to the skies above our major population centres being filled with Lufthansa, Air-France and Iberian transporters dropping essential supplies of ready made croissant pastry, wine in bounce-able plastic containers, Adidas trainers, and fresh orange juice to keep out the spreading scurvy from the southern border.
The European community is going to shite on a shovel,which will result in untold misery, poverty, inequality and discrimination, and all the UK imperial media can write about is belligerence and blue passport covers!
In an negotiating situation where a clearly deluded Westminster government’s position is ‘ No deal is better than a bad deal” and we’ve got bigger guns than you, Scotland must escape the flying circus, and return to its rightful status as an independent European nation. To do otherwise would be less than rational.