I had my doubts about Theresa, but …
The demographics of the readership here have been remarkably consistent over the years. A quarter British based, another quarter mainland Europe, another from the Antipodes and the last but not least the final quarter from the new world. I’ve never focused on any particular one of those demographics, since what I object to and have chosen to fight is a global malaise and perhaps those demographics reflect that decision.
The vague common denominator is you’re mainly English speaking, or expressed in a more basic sense, Anglo-Saxons, and even looking at the European contingent, they’re mainly drawn from that same hardy stock.
The more important common denominator is that when push comes to shove, we are no good at being intimidated by anyone, no matter how powerful they are, no matter when all is lost or how overwhelming the situation might be. Never mind Barbarossa, Hitler cancelling operation sea lion was the biggest mistake he ever made. Can you imagine D-day ever being launched from across the width of the Atlantic?
The ordinary people in Britain had nothing but unrelenting months of Project Fear in the run up to the referendum. Every tin pot expert, every media outlet, every major party, every foreign party and even that content-free arsehole who currently masquerades as the President of the United States assured us that a brexit vote would leave us alone, isolated and doomed to collapse into a twenty-first century dark age off the coast of Europe. We weren’t just being assured of that, we were being threatened with it, and they’d see to it.
It was all a done deal, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew they’d scared us just enough, we’d wimp out, knowing there was no way we could possibly win and would get back into line.
Instead and gloriously, so bloody goddamn gloriously, the common man lived up to that stubborn Anglo-Saxon heritage, and waved two fingers at the whole lot of them, or a single finger if you come from the new world. The colonials are so much more efficient like that.
We told the whole pack of them to fuck off, we’d chance it alone, free once again to strike out into the world ourselves, confident and happy to be masters of our own destiny and not vassals of some quill-wielding clerks in some sleepy village on the bum pimple arse of the EU world that was inexorably tearing itself apart, despite the efforts of a decadent unelected bureaucracy that spent more on their haircuts in a month than most of us within it earned in a year.
Scotland and Northern Ireland voted yes because they suck on the EU teat, but outside glittering London, the shires made their mind known – we want out of the EU. Ignore our will at your peril.
In the immediate aftermath of the vote, we’ve had weeks of the establishment whingeing on and on, and even campaigning for a rerun of the referendum. For them, democracy is ideal, just as long as it comes back with a decision they approve of. You could nearly hear the whole establishment screeching like an ungreased axle. Having defied all the experts and finding the world hasn’t actually collapsed down on our heads, people are feeling cocky. If the whingers ever got a rerun, the Leavers would win even bigger.
Having won the referendum, exciting times ensued. The PM Cameron resigned and the power struggle began and that’s just politics. At the end of day, they’re all power junkies jostling to get to the top. After one horrendously disgraceful backstabbing, a new leader emerged; Teresa May.
She was a tepid Remainer and everyone knew her unopposed coronation, despite a momentary opposition from a lightweight, was an establishment coup. Or so they thought. En passant, have some Mozart.
The dread I had, like most Leavers, was she represented the paralysed icy fingers of the establishment once more getting hold of the situation. We’d be fighting the slow reverse mission creep of somehow always failing to leave a failed and failing experiment while all the while being assured the will of the people was being obeyed.
Well, excuse my French, but fuck me, within less than twenty four hours her cabinet appointments kicked that notion into touch.
First off, Boris Johnson, the in all but name leader of the Brexit campaign, was appointed Foreign secretary. David Davis, a respected politician of fierce integrity, was appointed to the new ministerial post of negotiating us out of the EU.
Best of all, the smarmy little back-stabbing bastard Michael Gove got the bum’s rush straight out of government.
She then abolished the DECC (Dept. of the Environment and Climate Change) and gave their building to the Ministry of Brexiteers.
Osborne, the Chancellor, got shown the door as well. With the exception of Boris (who everybody likes except the BBC, Guardian readers and most of norf London) she threw out all the Eton/Oxbridge/Bullingdon Club aristo smarmy bastards.
I rather think the establishment thought they were regaining control but they crowned somebody who mentioned that overlooked minority in her accession speech; young white boys who were the poorest performing demographic in the educational stakes.
From any practical perspective and noting that the opposition is in a complete shambles, her job as a leader is not only to put her party together as a community of souls, but also to stitch together a country in the wake of a harsh decision while at the same time implementing the will of the people.
Her gutsy decisions and the appointments made within less than twenty-four hours presage good things.