When Britain Lost a Leg

It is gone now and never coming back.

To be crystal clear: the UK is in an appalling state of disarray as a result of Brexit. The entire circumstances surrounding the run up to the vote, the vote itself, the result ,and the turmoil and pain that it has created are bad, and the more I think about it and the more manoeuvring I see from both sides the more I am pained. However, it has and is happening.

The Brexit result is akin to losing one’s leg in a terrible accident. An accident so bad that the limb is destroyed. There is no hope of ever getting the leg back. Ever. There is a time and a place to forensically unpick  the reasons for the accident. However, no amount of protest or analysis nor recognition of the terrible circumstances that led to the loss of the leg will ever get the leg back. The UK is a political amputee.

Our country is puzzlingly stuck at the point of pre-Brexit, where arguing about the circumstances leading up to the result could actually change anything. Those fights were fought, court cases lodged and lost, votes in parliament and the Lords fought over and eventually lost. Article 50 was enacted. We are leaving the EU.

The Remainer camp are obsessed with the minutiae, the unfairness, the damaging effects that will undoubtedly occur and all the other reasons why Brexit should not have happened. In the meantime, the Leavers are grinning, crossing their arms and sticking with permutations of, “You lost. Get over it.” They don’t need to explain why, justify the result or even come up with a plan for the process when faced with the style of opposition presented by the Remainers. The Remain obsession with the past plays right into their hands.

The complete lack of political realism, seemingly driven by a complete refusal to acknowledge political realities in the hope that if something is wished for hard enough it may become true, is exacerbating the damage as we tumble unchecked towards the exit date. Each camp is as guilty as the other with regards to the past. It is like watching two bald men fighting over a comb.

The leg is gone. There are only two options now. The first is  is tantamount to wishing the leg back, which is wishful thinking. The second is to engage fully with our new one-legged reality. In these terms it means attending to the wound and engaging with the physiotherapy.

If there were fewer egos, on both sides, that needed salving I daresay we could manage a better outcome. Finger pointing and engaging in endless permutations of “he said she said” achieves nothing. It is little wonder that the rest of the EU and many other countries are looking at the UK with a mixture of bewilderment and exasperation.

If all the brainpower and effort that was devoted to picking over the legitimacy of  the amputation were to be redirected towards making us the best one-legged country in the world, we could become a top-notch one-legged ass kicker. Instead, we seem to be collectively determined to make us the hobbling cripple of Europe.

 

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Dear Labour, Here Comes UKIP.

In Great Britain the Labour Party (the party of the left, in all its guises) has pulled off the astonishing trick of disappearing so far up its own arse by squabbling amongst itself that everyone can see it for what it has become; Labour is a bunch of power-hungry people, so focused on their own gain, that they will commit collective suicide rather than back down to one another. This public, Faustian style death pact that all the warring elements have bought into is very worrying. These self-obsessed clowns are no longer representative of the voters and nor do they provide an effective opposition, so the Tories just march around doing what they please.

Labour used to be the antidote to the so-called ‘Nasty Party’ (the right-wing Tories) and provided an effective opposition, sometimes got into power and occasionally mitigated some of the more egregious things the hardline Tories do. However, these days there is a new force and it is going to subsume Labour.  I watched the address of the new leader of UKIP on a Channel 4 clip and it was terrifying. Terrifyingly good and terrifyingly dangerous if you are the Labour party. In fact, just scary for any person with even a semi-liberal outlook on life.

In this post-factual political world Paul Nuttal, the new leader of a very unpleasant right-wing party, has marched up to the centre ground and declared that UKIP is the voice of the working classes. His message and delivery are very convincing. An apt metaphor is the new dog in the neighbourhood seen peeing higher on all the lamp posts. These lamp posts are the parliamentary constituencies that the Labour infighting has let go unattended. Anyone who has had a dog knows that they regularly remark their territory, lest the other dogs forget. Labour has failed to do this and the new dog is here.

Nuttal is appealing to traditional Labour voters and I believe that – important caveat now – if he can galvanise UKIP he will decimate the Labour party. If they think he won’t because commonsense dictates that no sane decent person will vote for such a bunch of unpleasant people as UKIP then I have just the one word: Trump. People identify with his message and he is skilled in its delivery. Watch out.