The Judge RANTS!
Glad It's All Over
One has to hope.
At the end of the nastiest, most vicious, most vacuous political campaign of my entire lifetime, which has been exemplified by the worst being full of such passionate intensity that - not content with aping Nazi symbolism and making other comparisons with 1930s Germany which in a civilised land should debar the person making them from holding any office above that of assistant gardener for a rural district council, they gatecrash from the air a memorial rally for the Labour MP murdered by a neo-Nazi last week - they not only do these things, but seem to be surprised that anyone finds their conduct in any way objectionable; and when the 'good' (for certain and largely relative values of that word in this context) so lack conviction that it has been impossible for anyone not willing to spend hours online researching for themselves to hear any positive case for the Untied Kondom's continuing membership of the European Union, having instead to put up with the thin, un-nourishing and tasteless gruel of scaremongering and other patronising conduct...
(Fuck! That whole paragraph is just one sentence! Take a deep breath...)
At the end of it all, as I say, one is obliged to cling to the possibility - however remote it may sometimes appear - that sufficient numbers of the non-shouty, thoughtful folk who I like to think still make up the majority of our fellow inhabitants of this island (and that bit of the one next door which is still an exception to any rule you care to think of) will not be so revolted at the sights and sounds which have assailed them in recent weeks that they will not bother to vote for anyone other than the Pox On Both Their Houses Party tomorrow.
I still have just about enough faith in them to think that Friday morning's result will confound those spread-sheet sooth-sayers called 'opinion pollsters' and send the xenophobes, bigots and killer clowns packing, so we can get on with our future as the integral part of our continent that we have long been.
One has to hope, because the alternative scarcely bears thinking about.
To uplift us, here's a man of considerably more talent, humanity and wit than the combined ranks of the 'Brexit' (and we can hope for the mercy-killing of that fucking word as well) mob to give us a fine, cheery song (and characteristically scatty video) from a generation ago: