I must admit, I also lacked motivation. There are only so many ways to say we are led by a crew of complete and utter nitwits; and Theresa May is the worst of the lot, perhaps even eclipsing her predecessor David Cameron.
Shortly before the 1997 election, Tony Blair and New Labour had a gigantic lead in the polls. The late Roy Jenkins compared Blair to a man carrying a priceless antique vase across a highly polished floor, terrified that one slip could smash his hopes into a million pieces.
Theresa May, then, is the hapless individual who tripped over an untied shoelace and shattered a couple of Qing Dynasty vases in the Fitzwilliam Museum.
Cameron had no plan for losing his European referendum. May had no plan for losing the Conservative majority in her snap election. Nobody has any plan for how to manage Brexit without making us all substantially poorer. Oopsy daisy, where did all these bits of porcelain come from?
(Some NSFW language below the fold, if anyone is concerned about such things.)
|The Kraken. Source: Medievalists.net|
The best I can do to describe the condition of British government is to quote journalist Alex Massie, quoting cricketer John Emburey: "The fucking fucker's fucking fucked."
In the long run, it may work out for the best. The complexities of steering a course through Brexit would challenge any government, even one possessing ruthless efficiency and a substantial majority in Parliament. Since this one has neither, maybe Britain will muddle through to something not too damaging and rather close to the status quo of membership.
Maybe the rest of the EU will take pity on us, politely look the other way, and grant deadline extensions, in the hope a once-respected nation can extract its collective head from its arse. Maybe the bankers and captains of industry will succeed in explaining to the Conservatives, using small words and helpful diagrams, that they do not want Britain to become an unfriendly environment for business.
Then again, maybe we will crash out of the EU in the most wretched and bungling way possible, a doomed attempt to restore a Little England which never existed in the first place.
I wouldn't care to put money on it, either way. If nothing else, recent events have taught us to expect the unexpected. At this point, if the mighty kraken rises up from the Thames and lays waste to the Houses of Parliament, my response would be a weary shrug and opening another beer.
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