Seven Days

It’s been a week.

I’ve run out of stuff to say that won’t reduce me to tears. I’ve tried to write this post once and gave up as I sobbed into the keyboard, understanding finally registered that all it took to completely destroy my world was a bloke called Boris and just over half the country voting with their hearts. That’s all this is in the end, everyone was honest. The motivations were different, the reasoning varied on a person to person basis, but in the end people did what their consciences told them to do. It wasn’t a protest vote, and despite what some people might want you to think, this vote wasn’t swayed by people who didn’t know what to vote and panicked. If you want to blame anyone, throw your shoes at the 30% of the electorate who registered and couldn’t be fucked to turn up on the day.

They quite obviously had better things to do last week than destroy the Country.

If someone had written yesterday as an act of pure fiction, it would never have been read, watched or sold. Nobody could have dreamt the scenario that ended up with the man who started this whole fucking shitstorm running away, but he did, in an act of cowardice that is not ever likely to be forgotten. I have no idea what we’ll get today as a result, but I can guarantee that someone has a GIF for it. I like the idea that reaction now is best summed up in brief, three second bursts, because any more than that and you’d just disintegrate.

In the end, you have to laugh or you do cry, and this is the glue holding the Country together: soundbites, 140 characters, briefest summary of issues so fucking complicated Stephen Hawking would pronounce you were ‘aving a  laff and nip off for a cheeky Nandos instead. It is just easier to imagine the Economy as a speeding golf buggy without a driver, saved only by the guy who runs faster. It’s funny because it’s true, people.

I have many things I want to say personally, but for now it is just simpler to cheat.

No, that’s not the answer, but it is the only one I can cope with.

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