Britain is in a mess. A huge mess. A catastrophic mess. The nation’s fundamental divisions – age, education, income – are strikingly visible. And what a horrifying sight it is.
Like a grubby plaster painfully torn off, our country’s ugly underbelly been exposed. Fearful, vicious, bitter; this is a nation defined by its differences, a crumbling castle built on sand and lies.
“Take back control” is a rather apt phrase for our mentality: taking not giving, keeping not sharing.
When greed and individualism are actively encouraged, idealised even, it should be no surprise that those left destitute and desperate through the actions of others want retribution.
When pinning the blame on equally impoverished immigrants becomes embedded within the national rhetoric – propounded and legitimised by the press – then distorting this anger, this complete disillusionment with the established powers, is all too easy.
The European Union wasn’t the focus of this referendum. It wasn’t about whether to stay, or leave.
It was a choice: unity or selfdom.
Me, or them.
And after decades of being told that greed is good, that enough is never enough, that if you’re poor it’s your own damned fault… People voted to empower a government that has systematically failed them.
We are where we are for a reason.
“Brexiter Regret” is a phrase which may gather momentum over the coming months and years.
When the NHS is auctioned off to the highest bidder and zero hours contracts become the norm for teachers and nurses; who will feel the pain?
Nigel and his cohort of city boys? Boris and his millionaire entourage?
I doubt it.
When Theresa May gleefully shreds up the Human Rights Act, humming Rule Britannia as she discontinues our right to a fair trial and freedom from torture, maybe then reluctant Brexiters will realise they’ve fallen for the greatest con since Blair promised an era of peace.
Britain is divided, and fury has conquered reason.
Our country has never felt so unwelcoming.