Here are some random thoughts about the cake eaters and the
engine room stokers - some of this will probably offend.
This whole shitshow is offensive, but they were observations
based on emotion rather than calm reasoned discussion, thought and debate (I've
been doing that for 3 years and it doesn't seem to work). Emotional nationalism
is what won it and we are suffering the fallout. It's a fascinating insight into the Divided Kingdom.
Friends used to make off colour casual putdowns of the
French and the Germans and us Canadians - well, the thought of not being taken
seriously is perhaps the great Canadian conhumdrum and we should embrace our
inner Bryan Adams. We get our fair share
of ignorant observations of our cultural stereotypes. You have to take it all
with a grain of salt to survive in the D.K. I realise now that perhaps they
were more serious than I thought and those extreme stories in The Daily Mail I
used to mock for the last 30 years might have had more effect than I thought at
the time.
I sympathise with the protest as we have all been stitched
up like a kipper. I love the slogans and the flawed characters, they are human
after all, but I reject the extremism and the subtle racism and the not so-subtle
racism. The overt 'not-in-my-backyard' little Englander rears his/her ugly
head.
"Are you in or out?"
What? If you mean are we being kettled then I hope I'm out
because I want to go home. All this standing around and marching is making me
tired.
"Where are you
from?"
South East London.
"Have you got a
big cock?" - laughter all round - "He's not from here. Sorry we're
very drunk".
Brexit was a working class grass roots protest and the door
was pushed open just a little bit more when the fuckers won. Cromwell would've
approved. Farage wishes he was the new Cromwell but he can't even get elected.
It's a joke but nobody is laughing anymore.
Religious nutters, jolly jokers, blokes and lads on the piss
all waving clever slogans on plastic placards. Mythical Englishness, the
kingdom of Wessex and the flag of St George. Symbols of Great British identity
one thousand five hundred years old.
The Brexiteers gather to save Brexit under the ugly purple
flag of UKIP who erect a massive screen across Whitehall and let The EDL spout
their propaganda via Tommy Robinson.
They are desperate to hang on to simple slogans like;
"Our fish our waters" and to find their own heroes 'who speak the
truth'.
The stench of stale beer in working class pubs and the
football chants proclaiming they are democratic freedom fighters uniting the
underclass who have spent their lives underfoot.
They happily mimic the lingo and the sound bite like vassal
state slaves chained to the EU dictatorship forever.
You can spot the Daily Express, Telegraph and Daily Mail
readers a mile off. It's the blowhards with bullhorns you need to watch out
for.
The Farage messiah is the pied piper of the downtrodden, the
disenfranchised and the salt of the earth fish wife.
Prod them a little and pretty quickly the usual soundbites
come out..."vassal state", " dictatorship" ,
"Betrayal" and all the stuff you read in The Express if that's all
you read.
A Scottish marching band with matching 'True Defenders' black
shirts and military styled caps enthusiastically marched and circled around in
front of the Sovereign's Entrance and then they quickly moved off to join the
Tommy Robinson extremists on Whitehall.
The 'Gammon' brigade (and their fishwives) hollered, chanted
and flashed rude fingers at the impressive stone walls of Victoria Tower. The
machine gunned police on one side and the world's media on the other.
"BBC. FAKE NEWS. FAKE VIEWS."
They are proud of their ignorance and of their roots. Union
Jack t shirts bulging over beer bellies, 'GAMMON' on one shirt, English flags
being flogged for a fiver , cans of cider and cheesy Matt Munro tunes.
It was a day out for the residents of Portsmouth's council
estates in front of The Red Lion Pub on Whitehall. They are proud of where they
come from and they wanted to tell us about it and perhaps they were hanging
around for the big match today V Sunderland at Wembley.
These are the bottom feeders of society, the dregs, the fag
ends, the crustaceans - the down and out salt of the earth working class who
slave away in the engine room with an axe to grind and they are tired of
shovelling the coal into the fire for somebody else's gain.
Moggy you better watch your step.
The veterans for democracy gather for a sing song as
'Jerusalem' segues into 'Rule Britannia'. The football chants rise as The
Democratic Football Lads Alliance march into Parliament Square under police
escort with their raised arms which could be mis-interpreted-as-you-know-what.
The brave patriots, as they call themselves, want their
country back and proved it by walking all the way from Sunderland to London.
Queen's 'A Night At
The Opera' can be heard blasting out of the PA just before Tommy Robinson
appears...the final song of course is their interpretation of 'God Save the
Queen'.
"As Alf Garnett would say, "he had stamina"".
The fractures have been ignored and plastered over for
decades and they run deep. The stokers aren't going away until they get their
cake.