ALL OUR YESTERDAYS

Yesterday we were a member of the European Union.

We left at midnight (Brussels time).

AndiMac wrote this poem, which I think sums it all up so well:

Brexitannia – a paean

Now dawns the day, the hour is at hand
when Britons liberate their glorious land.
From foreign laws and trammels free,
we do restore our sacred liberty.
Dagoes, Eyeties, Frogs and Krauts we shun,
with Belgians, Greeks and Dutch we’ve done:
we’ve smashed the fetters, cut and run
to take our right place in the sun.
With a world of opportunity before us
and no Johnny Foreigner hovering o’er us,
we’ll show that we’re no more their fools
as bold Britannia waives the rules.
Our argosies shall roam all seas
and Britons trade with whom they please,
riches and treasures to bear home
from every land across the foam.
Gold, silver, silks and spices fine,
exotic fruits and honeyed wine,
furs, leathers fine and jewels bright
in trade for jams and famed Marmite.
But should some upstart power decide
to challenge the Lion in his pride,
our Navy shall guard the ocean’s lanes
with both our carriers that have no planes.
And, yea, our submarines on the Clyde,
except when all moored alongside,
shall deter any foolish foe
who would ‘gainst Albion strike a blow –
to them our missiles oblivion bodes
as long as Yanks give us the codes.
No gold-starred blue flag o’er our land shall fly
our sacred Union Flag instead shall flutter high
against our nation’s sunlit sky.
Around our rugged coasts and gentle sands
no rapacious fishing boats from foreign lands
shall any longer dredge the bounty of the sea –
a sea now British ‘til eternity.
Likewise, no Czech, Romanian or Pole
shall force young Britons to the dole.
There shall be work aplenty in our land
to which our sturdy lads can turn their hand.
Young damsels too, Britain’s beauties,
shall henceforth glory in national duties,
in caring for Britons of older age,
while generously paid a minimum wage.
Fruit-picking, lifting spuds and such like rural joys
shall breed a race of healthy girls and boys,
who will in time serve in our armed forces,
maintaining Britain in her courses
to rule and guide the globe entire
once more as Britannia’s great Empire!
Ignore the whining of Remainer curs,
Northern Irish dolts and, even worse,
Mad Scots who would be independent –
instead, hail Britannia now transcendent.
So raise your bumper, peal the bell
and welcome Britain…into Hell!

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YOU UTTER, UTTER, UTTER EMBARRASSMENTS

They sang us “Auld Lang Syne” and you, Farage, in your turn, made an idiot (me being polite) of yourself.

Now, I’d imagine that most people in Brussels know that you’re a blethering old drunk who smells like a stale ashtray, and, as such, they probably don’t listen to you,  your little playmates or, indeed, your mad old Granny Ann.

But I’d lay money on the fact that this clip will have been shown on news programmes around the world, from Greenland to New Zealand; from Japan to Paraguay.

You just showed the world what a set of ill-mannered, immature, boors you are, and your behaviour will have refected not just on your miserable selves, but on your country too.

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Furthermore, with a set of extremely difficult negotiations yet to come with the EU, you have done your beloved UK absolutely no favours… and, make no mistake, favours will be what the UK will be looking for.

Even fervent supporters of Brexit will have thought you an embarrassment.

We most certainly cringed.

YOU COULDN’T MAKE HIM UP…

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A Tory MP, who says that Britain will be more global after Brexit, is kicking off this new Globalness by banning French and German wine from his Brexit party.

THAT global? I hear you say! Goodness, that is VERY global.

Only drinks from “the British Isles” will be permitted, says Andrew Rosindell, who seems not to know that the British Isles includes the Isle of Man, the Channel Islands (none of which were never in the EU) and, of course, the Republic of Ireland, which remains in the EU (not to mention Northern Ireland which is half in and half out).

He then spoils the utter Britishness of it (sorry Ireland) by saying that wine from the Commonwealth will be permitted…like any of them give a damn.

Only British food and music, though, will be allowed.

“We’ve got music from around the British Isles and singing and dancing from all parts of the UK and we’ve got a great British buffet with food from around the UK and English sparkling wine – nothing French or German but everything British and Commonwealth.

“We’re going to be celebrating in style and at 11 o’clock when it’s all done we’re going to be singing God Save the Queen and Rule Britannia. I think huge numbers will come. Everyone’s welcome.”

I hope that “everyone” includes all the homeless people because I dare say they’d be happy to eat anything that’s going and probably appreciate a nice glass of English wine.

He continues:

“This is a turning point in our history, whatever people’s views. We are going to have a bit of party but it’s a serious decision that the country’s made.

“We are evolving as a nation. We are going to be more global, we are going to be out there in the world again – Britain’s back.”

I can understand that Joe/Jo McBloggs might not understand that Britain never went away and was never NOT in the world, given that he or she may read the Express, the Mail or the Sun.

But you would think an MP might know that that was rubbish and that Britain, because of its size, was one of the leading countries in the EU and as such, because of the EU’s size and wealth, had a considerable amount of influence in Brussels and therefore also in the world.

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It is unclear what Britain will become after it leaves the EU (which, in reality, will not be on Friday night, rather on 31 December this year) but it will certainly not be in the top ranks of the world’s nations. The UK will simply not have the economic clout.

As this article points out, Rosindell is really out of touch, even about something as British as the BBC.

In 2016 he put forward a motion in parliament to have the BBC play the national anthem at the end of every day, seemingly unaware that the BBC doesn’t end broadcasts at the end of the day, but shows repeats all night.

Sensualis (cum romanis numeros) Solis

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i: Look what I’ve got…
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ii: Tasmania waterfall.
n foxy sleep
iii: Sleepy Little Fox.
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iv: It’s Sunday so I have my hat on…
ben the bun
v: Things to do, animals to see.
nbuds
vi: We is best buddies!
walkies
vii: Three little ducks from school are we.
n flores indonesia
viii: Flores, Indonesia.
n tufted titmouse
ix: Tufted Titmouse.
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x: Maintenance Puss here. At your service.
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xi: a rainy day in Seattle town.
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xii: La famille des bonhommes de neige.
misty
xiii: Brrrrrrrrr!!!
seal
xiv: Am I, or am I not, the cutest animal here today?
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xv: Get a move on   Junior!
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xvi: I was rescued by this bloke here after my mum was run down by a car. I reckon he’s my mum now. Anyway, he has comfortable shoulders.
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xvii: Sunlight through the trees.
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xviii: Stressbuster, for boy and dog alike.
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xix: There’ve been too many dogs on here today. Complaint to Munguin!
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xx: I HATE baths and she makes me have one every week!

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Note from Munguin: To be published at one minute after midnight on Sunday morning (Scottish time) and all numbers to be Roman instead of Arabic.  Send extra bill to Danny!

WE WANT TO BE OUT, BUT WE WANT TO BE IN

IN OUT, IN OUT, SHAKE IT ALL ABOUT

You think I’m joking, but in fact, she is for real.

No really, she’s not a stand-up comedienne, she’s a <snigger> politici… Nah, I can’t say it.

What did she think would happen?

I mean she wasn’t daft enough to believe that we could have our cake and eat it, or that we held all the cards, or that there were no downsides to Brexit, surely?

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I’ve always thought of leaving the EU as being a bit like leaving a golf club (not that I’ve ever been anywhere near a golf club).

So, you’re in the Trumpy golf club; you decide to leave. Fair enough… but you’re going to stay in for as long as your last year’s subscription lasts, maybe till you find another club to take you.

But then, after that, you propose that, although no longer a member, you’d like to maybe come in one afternoon a week and play a round with your buddies.

Oh, and perhaps have a few drinks at the bar of a Friday evening.

Perchance bring your other half in for a meal on a Saturday from time to time.

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Maybe even have your kids’ Christmas party in the function room, like you’ve always done.

But you make it clear that you do not recognise the authority of the Management Committee, and have no intention of following their silly rules.

Maybe Bullingdon Boys are so used to trashing restaurants that it doesn’t occur to them that normal people do follow other people’s rule?