Don’t panic. I did, for a moment, but I think I’ve calmed down now. It’s more the unholy surprise of the result that saw me spring into action, strapping a metal colander on top of my head as an improvised helmet and digging a large hole in the backyard into which I intended to crawl in the hope of avoiding the inevitable fiscal fallout. The Brexit is coming. Much like the Avian Flu and the most recent season of ‘Glee’, there is nothing we can do to avoid it. We can only try to protect ourselves as best as circumstances will allow.
Don’t panic. I did, for a moment, but I think I’ve calmed down now. It’s more the unholy surprise of the result that saw me spring into action, strapping a metal colander on top of my head as an improvised helmet and digging a large hole in the backyard into which I intended to crawl in the hope of avoiding the inevitable fiscal fallout. The Brexit is coming. Much like the Avian Flu and the most recent season of ‘Glee’, there is nothing we can do to avoid it. We can only try to protect ourselves as best as circumstances will allow.
Let me say now that digging a really big hole is, in fact, a lot harder than it appears on television. After forty minutes of effort, I looked like a wrung out sponge and the back yard had a slight dent. My plans to live a harmonious existence beneath the earth’s surface emerging only at night for supplies were, by this time, in total disarray. Loosening the chinstrap and letting the colander fall to the ground I sat and stared at the sky, wondering precisely where it all went so horribly wrong.
It’s hard to believe. Only last week, the soon-to-be ex-Prime Minister David Cameron deployed the slogan ‘Brits Don’t Quit’ to devastating effect. Frankly, there’s no comeback for a line like that; deriving, as it does, from that most compelling of political campaigners, MC Hammer. Whilst the connection was not made explicitly, I suspect that subconsciously, millions of people found themselves mumbling ‘2 legit to quit’ under their breath for reasons they didn’t quite understand at the time. Maybe the Prime Minister didn’t make the connection clear enough. Had he used the slogan whilst wearing parachute pants and performing dance moves, the result might have gone the other way. Perhaps.
So Britain is leaving the European Union. For reasons known only to themselves, millions of people have elected to strap a gigantic outboard engine to the bottom of the island (probably somewhere in Cornwall, I’d suggest Lizard Point) to push the whole thing further out to sea. Who knows where they’ll end up? Given that Britain will no longer be part of Europe, I understand that international law dictates that the AFL’s ‘free agency’ rules apply. Whether Britain should be considered a totally free or restricted free agent isn’t entirely clear from the voting result. Whatever the case, chances are they are free to join the geopolitical alliance of their choice.
My money’s on South East Asia. By moving just a few thousand miles south, the British climate will improve dramatically and locals will be able to undertake duty free shopping at all times. This might have been a major motivation for the ‘leave’ vote. Not that it’d be easy. For some time, tensions have been escalating in the South China Sea as countries lay claim to the region by building little islands. They’ be quite put out if they woke up one morning and found Britain had decided to park itself there, like a gigantic backpacker campervan out the front of your house.
As Britain drags itself away from Europe, heading for sunnier climes, the entire country will be a gigantic Fairstar the Funship, pulling into port and allowing its passengers to run amok before rounding them up and heading to the next destination. It will be, frankly, the largest Contiki cruise the world has ever seen. But it’s all well and good that they’ve decided to so forcefully renounce geography, but what are the likely impacts of the seemingly drastic decision?
Firstly, Britain will no longer be allowed to compete at Eurovision. Granted, some might say that they’ve not been competing at Eurovision for many years now and their non-attendance might be something of a mercy killing, but still. There are up to dozens of people who’ve spent their lives dreaming of Eurovision glory whose hopes have just been crushed. Also, ever wondered how James Bond would simply pop up in Spain or Italy or Russia? From now on, a good forty-five minutes of every Bond film will be spent with 007 as he waits to get through customs.
It’s easy to stick the boots into something like the European Union. But those who wish to slag it off do so by ignoring it’s major achievements. Namely, Euro Disney. No longer will the British be able to savour the unholy collision of Hollywood and mainland continental Europe. Je m’appelle Mickey Mouse? Not any more, it isn’t. Then there’s the issue of the Chunnel, which will have to be corked up as a matter of urgency. Doubtless, Boris Johnston is making an emergency trip to Bunnings as I write this, looking for the biggest plug he possible can. Also, Britain will be forbidden from listening to music by the band ‘Europe’. Until you’re no longer permitted to listen to ‘The Final Countdown’ any time the mood strikes, you’ve no idea how big a whole in your life it leaves.
So what happens next? Granted, the world will keep spinning on its axis, even if financial markets call in sick next week with a colossal dose of ‘Euro-flu’. It’s a funny age we live in. One where complex ideas are reduced to slogans, regardless of consequence. Perhaps I should keep digging that hole after all.