As I drove home from work the pundits on the radio were
talking to the latest Brexit Secretary who was calling for everyone to get
behind the Prime Minister’s Brexit plan. With no alternative to what is widely
regarded as a rather crappy deal the nation was told that we either accept what
is offered of “go back to square one”.
Finding myself more and more amazed that no one saw this shambles coming,
perhaps now is the time to go back to square one.
Not “square one”
of Brexit but “square one” of the
entire concept of democracy.
Over the last two years I’ve heard so many opinions on the
topic of Brexit; for and against. Most start with “I don’t really understand politics but…” and most seem to be
referring to some cloud-cuckoo land which bears no relation whatsoever to
reality. On the one hand, the European Union *isn’t” the forerunner of the utopian society of “Star Trek” (which some think it is). On the other hand, leaving the EU *isn’t* going to transform the
Commonwealth of Nations into the British Empire (which others assure me it will).
Is anyone surprised that Spain see a golden opportunity to
re-take Gibraltar? Is anyone surprised that the French are going to fish in UK
coastal waters whether the British like it or not?
Perhaps we might go back to a “square one” from which people have to demonstrate at least a
passing understanding of that for which they are voting *before* they put an “X”
in a box? People have to demonstrate an ability to be able to drive a car
before they go out and mow down innocent pedestrians. Most professions insist
on some sort of qualification before allowing people to practice. And here we
are in a so-called “democracy” where
an intelligent considered opinion is of no more worth than randomly doing what
the newspaper tells you to do.
Meanwhile the Chinese have announced the birth of the
world’s first
genetically-edited humans. Is this *such* a bad thing?
My piss had cooled by the time I got home. Once home I
walked the dogs round the park. Walking three dogs is hard work, but it isn’t
fair on them not to walk them. We did a shortened version of our usual route,
and we went in the other direction to what we usually take. On our usual normal
morning stomp we meet up with OrangeHead’s posse just as we are leaving the
park and we have a five-minute “episode”
as Fudge wreaks havoc with them. I didn’t fancy that today.
Our walk (for once)
was uneventful. Fudge’s straggling probably added twenty minutes to the journey,
and we got caught in a few rain showers, but “uneventful” was good.
With our walk done I took myself off to bed. I put the
phone onto silent and managed five hours sleep. That’s not bad for during the
day. As I slept Pogo came and slept on top of me. He’s a lovely little dog. I
say “little”; he’s something of a
tank, but he’s such a good-natured and affectionate pup. He had no idea that
he’s something of a tank.
I got up at half past three, and scoffed the left-over
chicken drumsticks as a late lunch. There were three; I allowed each dog to
have a go at one each as I held the bone (They
aren’t allowed chicken bones unsupervised). They seemed to like their
treat, then they all went back to sleep. I wish I could have done that.
I slobbed in front of the telly until "er indoors TM"
came home. She’s boiling up dinner, then I’m off to another night shift.
I wish I could shift this cold…
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