ITEM: Three months on and nothing much seems to have changed as a result of the Brexit vote. Various parties are insisting that we pull our fingers out and get on with it, and various other parties are mounting legal appeals and calling for a recount. The only people who seem to have got the shitty end of the stick are those who have found themselves suffering from a xenophobic backlash directed at anyone who “doesn’t look right”, whatever the fuck that means.
Me, I’m divided. I voted to remain and am convinced that leaving was the wrong decision for all sorts of reasons, but at the same time I have a slight leaning towards upholding the democratic decision of the electorate, in spite of the dubious means by which that result was arrived at (lies, lies, and more lies – so politics as usual, then).
Casting about for a historical precedent I find that of Socrates, who while rejecting the charge that he had corrupted the youth of Athens argued that the rule of law was a higher principle and should be upheld, and so drank the hemlock.
Part of me heartily applauds that decision. Most of me however thinks that he was an idiot.
ITEM: Staying with the political theme, my biggest problem with Brexit was that it took all the joy out of the downfall of Little Dave. For years I’ve waited to see that obnoxious git and his crew of old Etonian blunderkinds kicked out of power, and his resignation should have been a moment of pure bliss for me. Watching his resignation speech I anticipated teetering close to orgasm and needing only the right facial expression from Il Dave, one of hurt, to push me over the edge. Instead I just felt sickened by it all.
For that alone, Farage, Johnson, Gove, and all the rest of their motley crew are damned for eternity in my eyes.
ITEM: One thing I did get right about the whole Brexit mess – I predicted that whichever way the vote went somebody, somewhere, would blame Jeremy Corbyn for the result.
ITEM: Last word on Brexit – I found it significant that all the leaflets I received in support of the Leave campaign came from a place in Bristol with the revealing address “Catbrain Lane”.
Yeah, well.
ITEM: Remaining in Bristol, I was somewhat bemused a short while back to discover that they are running a bus powered by human faeces (draw your own conclusions linking this with the Leave presence). How long I wonder, before some time management whiz kid comes up with the idea of having a dump while on your way to work and bus seats are customised to accommodate this.
Suddenly Bunuel’s The Phantom of Liberty with its vision of dinner guests seated on flush toilets and discussing defecation as they eat doesn’t seem quite as surreal any more.
ITEM: A recurring nuisance phone call whose recorded message opens with the words “Now that winter’s here…”
I wouldn’t have minded, but it was the middle of July when I first started receiving this.
ITEM: I told a friend that the doctor said I needed to exercise more. ‘More,’ she replied.
We were speaking on the phone at the time, but all the same I could see those raised eyebrows.
ITEM: The Actual Girlfriend and I recently went on a day trip to York, and the only thing I can say is if you’re ever there be sure to check in to the Newgate café and order a butter caramel latte. It was absolutely gorgeous.
ITEM: If all goes to plan, sometime next year I’ll be moving in with TAG. The downside of this is that I will need to seriously reduce my book collection. Heartbreaking decisions lie in wait, alas.
By way of testing the water, we recently carted a couple of hundred books over to what passes for the village hall for a “garage sale”.
TAG placed a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey on the end of the table, which somebody had given her and she’d found unreadable. (I’ve kept my copy, as it was a birthday gift from The Imaginary Girlfriend, and so has sentimental value.)
Over comes this little old lady, who immediately notices the book and comments.
Me (pointing at TAG): Well it’s not mine. It’s hers.
TAG (placing a hand on my knee): He’s my Mr. Grey.
Little Old Lady: Well he’s certainly got the hair for it.
1 – 0 to Team Little Old Lady.
ITEM: It’s the first day of October tomorrow, and the last day of October is Halloween, so I have decided to devote this blog to all things horror for the next thirty one days.
You’ve been warned.
Trumpetville 