Brexit Daytrip

Brexit Daytrip To No Idea Brexit Land

Brexit, is a bit like a mad school trip. Remember, when you were 8 years old and the school had planned a day-trip, usually to a stately home, living museum or maybe a castle. And the fact that your parents knew full well about the trip, so, there was no way to get out of it. Playing truant is not an option for a school day-trip when your teachers, parents, and friends know your whereabouts. 

On the day of the trip, once all the kids are seated on the bus, a drunken foul-mouthed businessman climbs into the driving seat, turns the key, and drives off laughing. The businessman does not know where he's heading, but he's having fun at the wheel, and the poor kids just think its a ride to some fancy museum, and so don't question the drunken lunatic, driving further and further away from where the teachers, parents and kids thought they were going.

And so, here they are, here we are, on the Brexit bus with our little pack-lunch, wondering where the hell we are, and, if that pack-lunch is going to be enough for the full trip? Most of the kids are still laughing, making bad jokes, as kids do. Some are worried and have noticed that the driver is drunk, ranting, sweating and foaming at the mouth, often mumbling about fish and pork pies. 

Hours fly by, and the bus leaves the motorway turning onto a dusty dirt road. It's pitch black. The driver has sick on his shirt and doughnut powder all over his face, the bus is now swerving across the road, hitting small trees and bushes. 

Most the kids are scared by now, and they are all about to roll over the ridge of a pretty steep hill and descend the dodgy track on the other side, and with this drunken loon at the wheel, with no lights switched on, and no seat belts, and no medical supplies on board in case of accidents. At the very top of the hill the bus unexpectedly stopped. The crazy businessman opened the door and vomited, burped, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said: 

"well, um, hehe, kids....if I may, hehe, well, if you want to get off the bus now, please, hehe, well, please, just trot down the steps, go on." He picks a bogie from his red nose and eats it with relish, staring into space. "Um". 

And how many of these kids do you think stood up and left? What do you think is the matter with those who stay onboard?