Goodbye

There is only so much patience in the World. For those who think that the answer to dark times is to pretend this is the Blitz, and that the human spirit responds best to moments of national unity, I have news: Brexit broke the Country, and nobody since has bothered to do anything about it. A National Festival will not help this cause either, but there’s going to be one… except, as of right now, we still haven’t actually left, and now the Government want to extend the grace period, presumably because if they do so for long enough, people will eventually forget how we fucked ourselves so royally in the first place.

There is no effective opposition to this Government. It doesn’t exist. So, this means that, for the rest of time, all we will have is this broken, shattered land which will shrink first when the Scots leave, and then when Ireland re-unifies… and finally, as the Welsh start building a wall on the banks of the River Severn, it will become apparent to everyone how small-minded everything Westminster has done in the last decade really was. Those people who have any common sense will find the means to escape England, and it will inevitably devolve back to a series of warring counties, as was the case nearly 1000 years ago.

The future, undoubtedly, is feudal.

The number of people citing Magna Carta as their motivation right now should have been the warning sign. There will, of course be progressive centres in the New Country Order, and I suspect The North and The South West will also be building walls at their earliest possible opportunities to ensure the bigoted Southern Rabble are left to their own ridiculous devices. Once this happens, all football stadiums and sports complexes will be converted to (Your Sponsors Name Here) Jousting Thunderdomes, and the massacre will begin in earnest. Those 5G towers you were paranoid about will be guarded and surrounded by electrified fences, so the rest of the World can watch us self-destruct via a range of mobile devices…

I’ve been subconsciously preparing myself for a dystopian future for decades now. I intend to become a Bard-ette, pedalling from town to town on my tricycle, repairing stuff for food and illicitly showing people how to hook into the Power Grid to access the reality of life Outside the Country. Of course, many people just won’t care and will be happy to live their own, insular experiences with a back garden converted to an allotment and their previously prestige Range Rover Discovery now doubling as a greenhouse. In the end, they never needed anybody else in the first place, and now Blue Origin’s taken over the Moon, who wants to go there any more?

Some days, living in the real world is hard. It should stop you trying, though.

I’m tired of being lied to for the sake of other people’s obsession with wealth.