Member preview

#dangleboris A photo on the same theme appeared in France’s Liberation on June 25.

Goodbye and Thanks for All the Overpriced Kippers

Thank you Brexit for re-igniting my passion for politics with a vengance:

“48% Sense and Sensibility, 52% Pride and Predjudice” — Bill Maher.

You’ve called your own bluff, the party’s over.

For you.

We party on as you go over the edge:

As soon as you decided to bitch and complain about how much you were contributing to the party instead of joining in and enjoying the fun, you violated the spirit of our alliance.

It’s always been like that with you and us. You blowharding in your nationwide collective delusion of grandeur while we pick up the tab for your neglected nothern villages.

You made fun of the way we financed the party, clinging obstinately to your librae/solidi/denari and your portrait of an obscenely-wealthy woman on your coins and notes. Who still OWNS and collects ground rent for every square inch of land in Canada, by the way. Who lollygags around Scotland at her leisure on her vast estates there, cheek-to-jowl with you-know-who’s golf courses.

I imagine that Brexit put a stop to that purr:

So, when are you going to grow up and be a little more like Germany? Germany, the powerhouse of Europe. The Germany that you love to hate but whose blood flows thick in your veins:

Usually you guys trot out your sad, backward-looking, “Yeah, but we won the war”.

That was over seventy years ago and you could never have done it without the Americans.

But did you, did you really? Looks to us a lot like Germany and Japan won.

Anything that is good for Goldman Sachs probably isn’t good for you.

When Goldman Sachs urged you to “remain” it probably tipped a significant bunch of undecideds towards “leave”.

We are tired of your whining.

There is jubilation and hilarity all over Europe today.


Some of your voters are getting a terrible case of buyer’s remorse which sounds hysterically familiar, kinda like the GOP selecting a silly guy over a brain surgeon:

We are taking you at your word. What do you think this is? Best of three?

I simply can’t wait to get rid of you.

Your prime minister is planning to slow-play it but having a wet rag like you around just destroys the atmosphere of the party.

Your two wing men want to stay too. No self-respecting scot wants to be “frogmarched out of Europe by a gang of the Scarecrow Right”, according to Kevin Mckenna of The Guardian.

Your very capital city is toying with the idea of secession; the wing men and capital city without whom you would be nothing, you overgrown pink shrimp.

Londoners know that the beauty of their wonderful city is born of the sweat, blood and toil of foreign labour.

And the citizens of your wing-men provinces are already rushing to leave the sinking ship. The Irish passport office in London is being “swarmed” and the post office in Belfast has run out of Irish Passport forms:


How’s that for an excruciatingly (though hypothetical) delicious irony.

Sliced pan, baked beans, sugar-loaded chocolate bars, fish fingers, spaghetti-in-a-tin… I don’t miss them at all and I probably never will.


You relieved us of our bullion and sold it back to us at a premium.

You snapped up the sprat (bullion) that local fishermen risked their lives to fish, shipped it to Aberdeen (where I suspect it was smoked by Michael Gove’s father) and sold it back in the local grocery store as kippers at twenty times the price you gave.

Peter Sutherland, former European commissioner, states in this article that Britain exports more to Ireland than it does to India and China combined:

He urges the Irish to align themselves to Europe’s inner core.

Your rich, entitled, priveliged citizens have summer houses all over my country, driving up the price of property so that your teenage and twenty-something children can drink, drug and have fun to their heart’s delight.

These teenagers who grow up to criticize and ridicule us for being ignorant, stupid and small-minded. Who love to make fun of our accent and wonder why we don’t find it amusing in their naive spirit of privilege and entitlement.

The young Oxbridge man who, at one of my first grown-up parties, asked a clumsy teenager “Are you right-wing or left-wing?” and smirked at my confusion as I clutched my glass in my inarticulate reluctance to walk into his well-laid trap.

For decades you have used your unwillingness to be at the party as a bargaining tactic to extract dispensation from rules and special priveliges.

You’ve called your own bluff, the party’s OVER for you.

Goodbye and thanks for all the Kippers.

Click the green heart below to send me into raptures of ecstasy and to help others to find this article. Thanks to the thirty-seven people who have already done so.

Thanks also to the five hundred and thirty-three people who have viewed this article and to the two hundred and three who have read it.

Your participation in my writing efforts means the world to me.

Thanks a million for the supportive comments. They are deeply appreciated.

If you enjoyed this article, you might also like this lovely still-life by Maddy Shaw:

This article was inspired by a brave young woman’s speech addressed to the student who raped her at Stanford University: