Comrades, one day, we will have to repair our society if we don’t pull out of our dive towards its destruction. I could throw thousands of words at the matter of Brexit. I could pose on social media with a cat wrapped in an EU flag and good PC people would respond to my virtue signal. Many people post tendential features to reflect their own opinions but few are prepared to state their own position for fear of criticism and ostracism.
Until this week I have remained somewhat agnostic about the EU. Essentially I am a selfishly pragmatic Remainer. It is common sense to cooperate with other folks in all areas of human endeavour. However, a time has come when I cannot duck the issue any longer.
From now on I will actively struggle for freedom from the EU and freedom from the distant Neo-aristocracy who run it. I have always been a Labour voter (but abstained under Blair). I attended anti EU rallies with Jezzer and Tony Benn when I was a young idealistic Socialist Worker and GMB shop steward. I have never voted Conservative. There are only two choices now. Stand with the majority of people in the belief that all voters are equal in a democracy or stand against the majority believing that my vote somehow was more important than theirs.
I am not too worried about the long term EU project. All empires over-stretch, become corrupt and decadent at their centres. The EU has no connection with its working class peoples. When they rise, the liberal elites will have to find the stomach to crush them or be defeated. We’ve seen the Greeks clubbed, gassed and impoverished. 
We’ve seen Macron against the working class Gilets Jaunes as a foretaste. The battered and blinded tell their stories as euroluvvies whimper and wince. (You won’t see much about this on the UK media). If we are lucky there will be sufficient residual national governments to invoke tribal loyalties to restore control. If the empire staggers on towards faux federalism lite, and there remains only the rotten core, the fruit will decompose into a brief feast for the fastest opportunists. Are you ready Vladimir?
Having witnessed the spectacle of the Luxembourg empty podium stunt I was still prepared to swallow it as the arrogance of an over-inflated minor politico showing off in his own echo chamber. We’d already seen our prime minister sent to the corridor while the un-elected supremos quaffed their fine wines and chortled over their menus.
The events of this week have troubled me greatly. I will never accept the dictatorship of un-elected judges. I will never accept the dictatorship of the super rich and their bands of lawyers unless ALL CITIZENS can access the supreme court. I will never accept the tyranny of any performance poet Speaker of Parliament. I will never accept laws made by people not elected to the executive government. I will never accept the transparent machinations of a ruling class determined to keep their snouts in the trough. I believe in the sovereignty of the people and despite my own vote, I support the referendum result. Does anyone believe that we would be where we are if the referendum result had favoured the elite middle class position of remaining? No – the peasants would have gone home and accepted the result, or in any event, would not have had access to any levers of control.
Yet these grave issues are peripheral. Far more serious is the fundamental divide in our society. The truth is that we have no proper society or community. We have a ruling elite political and media class who despise all those who are not “people like them”. We have technocrats who view us as a mob of low information morons, draping our white vans with England flags. The Russians control the way we vote. We’re fascists and racists. I have been called a Gammon because I believe the appointment of the president of the EU commission by secret ballot is not in the spirit of democracy. And that was by people who had never heard of Ursula von der Leyen. Yes, they call us Chavs, Gammons and Fascists. I am a non graduate and ended my working life on minimum wage driving a white van. There is no longer any genuine social mobility other than self defeating quotas. Meritocracy is hereditary because of inequality of opportunity. I know who and what I am. My England flag is on its way.
This same elite class enforces a stifling political correctness upon us. They ban our words and thoughts. They turn their wagons in a circle around their orthodoxies of infinite gender transitions and racial identity taboos. They see phobes and offence on every corner, in every crevice, in every pale stale male. No humour permitted here guys. These absurdities are their wardrobe of emperor’s new clothes. If you can’t see them, you’re a Gammon. Your vote or opinion doesn’t count. They still kind of believe we can’t see them or that they’re too clever for us to spot their devious brilliance.
One good thing has come out of Brexit. My level of person always kind of felt that the game of life didn’t play to our rules. The clever and wealthy wrote the rules. There’s no Davos for plebs. We have no forums or representation. You get on, lift the heavy weights, shovel the shit, lay the bricks and drive the trucks. You accept what the high and clever ones give you. You get nicked for no MOT on your old car cos you can’t afford the repair and have to get to work. The law is for the rich man. The big pay cheques are for the bosses. You keep to the footpath for fear of the farmer. You cling on until payday and there’s jam tomorrow – maybe postponed. But you stand for the anthem and sing for Ingerland. You watch the Eurovision Song Contest and accept the corrupt voting. You know that foreigners are not intellectually and morally superior even though the media class tell you so, you vile, obese, pill-popping, sugar eating, turkey twizzler gutting little englanders.
Remember Emily Thornberry’s sneering attitude to an Englishman?
But the working class never knew just how much the ruling class despised them. They knew the papers hammed up the stories but they had some trust in those who informed them. A few years ago I would have fought on the streets to preserve the BBC. Not now. They are the voice of an elite class which has no connection with the majority of their audience. They represent no one beyond their own caste, locked in a virtue signalling loop of self-righteousness. This nonsense with Naga Munchetty is a case in point. She said what she wanted to say from her own view point. Good for her. I want everyone to have that freedom. As it is they sneer from behind their filters of correctness, perverting the news as an act of righteous goodness. The politicos and media look out from their circle and watch us with horror. They always expected to win.They were born to win and command.
Defeat was for the miner or fisherman picking up his last wage packet and trudging to the scrapheap. Defeat was for the coastal towns. Defeat was for the gig waged zero hours guy washing one’s 4X4. Defeat was for the poor guy led to prison for not having a TV license.(They drag you to court and fine you first ). Cameron believed the mob would tremble and grovel as the masters exposed their visions of poverty and hunger. He cannot have understood our character. Now, the gloves are off. There is still a hollow pretence of “People’s votes” because the plebs didn’t understand, or “standing up for democracy” by ignoring the biggest ever free vote in our history. When you write it down, you can’t really believe you’ve said that. It’s so absurd. It’s really about any stunt or ruse to block the democratic choice of the people. For their own good. Only people like us have the minds to understand the world. Donald Tusk (President of the European Council put this so well to Cameron.
Comrades, there was a referendum. No group lost and no group won. A majority decision of the whole People answered the question their parliament had delegated to them. We all share that victory if we choose to embrace it. The victor was our democracy and freedom. The victor was a people of all races and classes accepting a responsibility and seeing it through together. That was and still is our only chance of re-finding unity.
I would like to believe there could be a compromise but I know not from where or what it might arise. We are facing a determined adversary, emboldened by the support and efforts of many within our own ranks. There are those whose loyalties are only to their own caste. I believe police proscribe descriptive words attached to such individuals who conspire with foreign states against their own people.
To be frank I expect Brexit to be stopped simply because the elites have the levers of power, the cash and the control of media. The civil service and the judiciary are no friends of the powerless people and never have been. We can do nothing to advance them except pay our taxes and sign off their expenses. We are not comrades – we are a lumpen badly behaved problem. Assortative mating ensures that social classes remain fixed and stagnant. No one and no political party speaks for the working class. The only thing around which we can unite is the democratic decision to leave. My fear is that the virtue signalling elite will get their way and tell us it was all for our own organic whole grain low fat good. Of course they will dress up some travesty surrender in the clothes of a deal. They will send us home with triumphalist patronizing pats and sneers. They will imprison and demonize the more courageous dissenters. Most will trudge away and never vote again. The natural order will have been restored. We never possessed a weapon of mass destruction after all. Once again, Tony was wrong, but at least not so many died this time.
The alternative is to leave but with a truculent and uncooperative Establishment and media, working with foreign states, determined to make things as bad as possible for their own people. I can see the freedom loving righteous parliamentarians clustered around the speaker’s chair, wrapped in EU flags , brandishing placards reading “Told you so morons”.
I have chosen a ship and expect to go down with it.
This is the day. As the ocean of human life rages against the rocks and sands of time, poets dream and toilets flush. This day “My Life In Ladies’ Knickers” enters the Amazon solar system, like a giant asteroid of dark matter sucked from the blocked drains of infinity. Some cold puritans untouched by human insight and the intoxication of physical lust, look to the heavens and see one star. Others who have known both humiliations and triumph, who have known the visceral passion of the mind and the theatre of the hot curry after-burn, see five stars.
Comrades, Fear not the Brexit. Fear not the revenge of the European political elite – we can live through the punishment. The peasant and artistic people of Europe still understand and respect our shared humanity allied to our greatest talent for being foreign. This week-end a great honour and privilege was bestowed upon me. In my capacity as the official UK Poet Lorry-Park, I attended the Saint Savinien International “Metier du Cinema” Film Festival. To be honest I could not believe that I was in the presence of such people. Luckily I was accompanied by my partner – the best selling romantic novelist Emma Calin. Many people recognized her and were sufficiently distracted by her beauty, literary presence and sensual allure to allow me to drift into a quiet intellectual anonymity at the back of the cinema. She has also achieved local fame by producing the town’s Facebook page cover photo.
In an effort to appear artistic, cultured and elegantly poetic I dressed in all black with dark glasses which really are a pain at night. No one asked for my autograph but a woman did come and tug my hair. “M’sieur, you ‘ave too many airs on your ‘ead for an old man” she said. I kind of felt validated.
I used to be a regular trucker. I did the normal stuff, shipping containers, fridge trailers filled with food for supermarkets. The business went bust and I signed on with an employment agency. You guys know the score. Some days there’s work and some days there’s not. I used to sit in a run down shed waiting for the office guy to hand out some work. The old hands got the cream. One day the sewage suction company wanted a driver’s mate to haul the heavy hoses and jet wash some sewage filters. It was minimum wage but it was something. All the old class one license guys shook their heads. I took it and my life was never the same again.
Oscar Sparrow 