We are OUT of the EU and IN deep trouble

WE ARE OUT. How sad. Are you serious people, is this what you want, a country without courgettes and a clown as a Prime Minister? Shame on you!

This was my outburst the other day, when I woke up, turned on my ipad and looked up the results of the referendum on the e-guardian.  The night before I had stayed up till midnight and my initial worries had subsided, comforted by the reassuring voices of the journalists who, even before the counting started, where declaring the IN votes as the winners.

When at 6:30 in the morning I found out about the results, it was such a shock. Unbelievable. I spent the rest of the day in a surreal world − starting with the wrong Front-page headings on the daily newspaper (I wished I kept it as a memento), while I felt as if everything had collapsed around me, and all of a sudden I had turned into a ghost, or was I merely a guest, an unwelcome one? Or is it the same thing? Ghosts are, after all, unwelcome guests in old, rickety dwellings, and England feels a bit like this at the moment.

But life carries on; in the evening I went to, probably, the best pizzeria in London, Sacro Cuore in Crouch End, where Londoners of all nations were enjoying a real Neapolitan pizza. The Italian waiter, being asked how he felt after the earthquake, lowered his voice, as if in danger of being overheard by the Gestapo, and said: ‘It will be ok, at least for us that are already here; maybe in a little while everything will go back to normal. ‘Maybe…’ he added, followed by a movement of his hand, which meant it’s not too much of a problem, ‘…we’ll have to register with the police’. The police or did he mean the Gestapo? I couldn’t believe he said that, but I didn’t know what to say and I nodded, ‘Yes, Montepulciano with the pizza is fine, thank you.’

Now that I’ve heard my friends crying, I’ve had a perfect pizza, I know what waiters think, I am ready and clear-headed enough to finish the article I started on Friday morning.

Some people say that the working classes have won. Which working classes? The working classes in London are the low paid, foreign workers you see everywhere, at any time of the day and night − the very same people who keep this town functioning and moving − and as a matter of fact they were not given the right to vote. So, what working classes are we talking about? In my opinion those who voted OUT where the people who thought: I don’t like Europe, I’ll vote OUT. I don’t like foreigners, I’ll vote OUT. I don’t like Brussels, I’ll vote OUT.

So much for democracy! Is it democratic to vote out of sheer hatred and intolerance? I don’t think so. Is it democratic when the 51.9% impose an idea on 48.1% of the population? I don’t think so. This is a clear split.

OK. Let’s calm down. If that makes you happy, let’s go back to 30 years ago, when there were no coffee shops and no courgettes (my obsession), but stay where you are, don’t go to Europe on holidays because you are not welcome and nobody wants you. And also, remember that all the bright, young, Brits disagree with you.

Like all bad decision this has unleashed a series of catastrophes. One is that it has split, literally, the UK, not just the population. So, very soon, we might see the end of this Kingdom for good. It was obvious that Scotland, where an overwhelming majority voted to remain, was going to seek the opportunity to go on its own (a second referendum for independency will soon be on its way), and North Ireland will probably follow suit.

Meanwhile, in the middle of this political, financial, emotional earthquake, Boris plays cricket, looks stunned, worried, and, I must say, also a bit sad. And if this wasn’t enough, he utters the most incomprehensible nonsense, such as, I quote: “Great Britain will not be less United or less European”. Hallo. Is anybody there? Has Boris’s brain left his body? The British (but only a marginal majority) have asked to leave Europe, and Scotland and Ireland are thinking about leaving the (Dis)united Kingdom, and Boris talks about unity and Europe? Well, this is politics after all, and logic doesn’t apply to it.

Now it’s time for some gloomy forecasts. In the event that the UK decides to stop the flux of immigrants and Scotland and Ireland end their subjection to this country. What then?

Where do we draw the line? Decisions like this can spread their nonsense to unknown territories, and although you can tell where they start, you can never tell where they will end. If Scotland and Ireland leave the UK, does it mean that the Scots and the Irish will need a passport to travel to London? And all the Celts who live here will be proclaimed unwanted aliens same as me?

A friend of mine asked me to marry her (neither of us is gay) ‘it’s a good idea’ she said ‘you can stay here and I can go and live in Europe.’ She said it with such an English matter-of-fact-way that it took me a few second to understand what she was talking about, and when I did I laughed to tears. That’s certainly an option (maybe I have finally found true love). The second option is moving to Scotland. But wait a second, here it comes the best idea of all. What about London declaring itself an independent city, like Sparta and Athens, and becoming the administrative capital of Scotland (like Bonn was of Germany). All university towns are welcome to join the new union, which could be called the “Great Union of All” and the rest of England can stick together and carry on drinking warm beer and overcooked vegetables.  Sort it! What do you think?