Long has the good ship United Kingdom been cast adrift in the Sea of Fake News and threatened by the harsh maelstroms a-swirling in the Sound of Troubles. The Sirens of Brexit just off our starboard bow lure unsuspecting sailors into the Sound, to wreck and ruin. These, by all accounts, be treacherous waters.
However, what if I were to inform you that through logical, dispassionate observations, a Land of Truth has been sighted ahead? Aye, soon we shall be out of these dangerous tempest-riddled, deathly doldrums which have for so long vexed our progress, and we shall be home and dry if we are careful. To succeed, we must not allow emotions to be frayed or exploited, instead we must bring order to the chaos through mutual trust and without falling into the trap of trying to do so through fear. So first we must turn to port, trim our sails of policy that they may not be torn by bluster and rhetoric from a failed concept’s charlatan champions, and lead the fleet to safety. We must bring our treasure, our future, ashore to be kept in truth and not sunk in lies. We must learn from the mistakes we as British people made on this voyage, we must use better maps and compasses and avoid doing battle with reluctant, heavier ships out of hubris and misty-eyed recollections of halcyon days gone by that never were. We must accept that we are not always the best sailors, and that’s okay, so long as we reach the shore intact. Our ship is old and needs a re-fit, what once was a fine parliament by measure of being better than what was available elsewhere, and honoured verbal constitution, now has enough holes to resemble a colander. And people wonder why so much of what has been said there was bilge.
Moored in the Port of the EU in the Bay of Common Sense bounded by the Lighthouses of Peace and Respect, we have friends who we help and who help us. We might not always agree with everything they do, they might have long ago been our enemies, they might still need to learn a thing or two about transparency and fairness, but so do we. And we’re in no shape to be making demands of them, much less shape to be leaving when we are in such dire need of political and economic structural help here. We are not ready for such a voyage now. We do not have the fleet we once had. The Commonwealth is not an armada, it is a distant regatta. It looks nice and keeps us in touch with people we sold boats to but it doesn’t have much other function. Trading with them is more expensive than at port. We need to band together with our friends, not sail off without them and with in-fighting liars proven in court to have broken the law and to have illegally prevented parliament from sitting, at the helm.
Come, me hearties, let’s drop anchor at port, let’s even enter the dry dock of voting reform, let’s scrape off the barnacles of fascism and live to sail another day.
If we’re lucky there’ll still be some rum left.