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May convinces cabinet over Brexit, plunges nation into apathy

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May’s Brexit deal has emerged from the fires of her own party, with Theresa believing that her way is the only way forward. God save our gracious et cetera.

 

 

Many hoped that May’s Brexit deal would follow the trajectory as that screenplay our irritating friend threatens to write, in never reaching the draft stage. Instead, what we have is a voluminous turd, heavily polished, sprinkled with pork pies. This morning, roll out the barrel, bring out the coffin, let the mourners come, as Theresa May announced that there is a Brexit draft and that it’s quite a good one, and no, we can’t read it.

Speaking in terms more a loan shark than statesperson, May states that it’ll be her deal, or no deal at all. They’ve agreed upon her version of future events. May believes that “this is a decision in the best interest of the entire UK”, which sounds an awful lot like it not being the best way forward, but May’s best way forward. All of which sounds an awful lot like a paper plinth solely constructed to ferry May’s ego over the Channel.

 

 

There’s a lack of, well, detail. CNN thoroughly placed it in the too hard basket, stating “sounds easy, right? well, like most things in this process, it has been far from easy,” which is a quote out of context, which absolutely suits the entirety of the Brexit clusterboink. It’s been a series of serious arguments, kept behind closed doors, with the media-fronted statements rife with the pong of sanitised lies.

 

 

Since the vote fell, and the criticism was fired in response, there has been two phrases that have stuck in my mind. Easily rehashed, both from London residents, one blankly queried “now what?”, and the other believing that they’ve “truly fucked it”, fair representations of what the average Brit feels this morning, and every one since the vote. A nation is exasperated. A unison shrug is felt. It’s the divorce long-coming, the parents are splitting up, and the children are forced to take sides. Each breakfast they have may be their last together. The freezing gusts of unwanted change flap the familiarity of the kitchen drapes. No-one wants it, but neither is backing down. The process is in motion, which gives enough reason to follow through with it.

For the sake of objective journalism, this morning, May has won over her own. Now, she must convince those opposed. Sky News is reporting that almost ten of her own stood against it. I predict more of the same, a rudderless steering through the maelstrom on the assumption that any port in a storm is the right one.

 

 

May’s Britain is running from itself. The promises of the unknown motivate its legs. Whatever tomorrow is, it’ll be better than today. Well, Theresa, when you can a glimpse of yourself in the harshly lit glum bathroom of a roadside convenience, you’ll know who you are, and what you’ve done. A decision powered by hubris, and recklessness. Stubbornness and vast assumption. As someone once wrote, we are our choices. Disappointingly, an entire country now has to live with it.

 

 

 

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