Goodbye to 2019

I can’t say I was particularly surprised to see Boris Johnson take the Tories to a resounding victory on the 12th December; it has felt like a foregone conclusion ever since he started inviting creepy, unelected gurus like Dominic Cummings into Number Ten and declining interviews with any media outlet that he feared might show him up in a bad light. Basically, the BBC and most major newspapers. After all, he’s already been sacked by at least one of them for making stuff up. And we should not overlook the fact that he’d already been in power long enough to frustrate most attempts to bring him to account. Freedom of Information requests had begun to be met with responses so heavily redacted they all looked like plans for a series of zebra crossings.

As the threadbare vestiges of the opposition continued to tear itself apart under the authority of Jeremy Corbin, one of the most self-destructive socialist leaders since Wat Tyler*, large areas of the traditional Labour heartland deserted to the Tories. The ranks of the latter were swelled by the tactical withdrawal of the more extreme right wing Brexit Party and the path was cleared for a “President Boris”. In East Kent, where I cast my vote, the supporters of Nigel Farage who lent the new leader their ballot clearly now expect to be able to flaunt their racist views with impunity. In the North and the Midlands where the so-called “red wall” of the traditional working man fell to a champers-swilling toff, hopes have been raised of a complete economic resurrection. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, a Faustian pact has been struck with an unstable foreign leader who may actually soon be in jail. Good luck reconciling all of those interests, BoJo; you have only yourself to blame.

But no matter how horribly Trumpian this is all beginning to sound, the Conservative Party’s huge majority has actually brought me, personally, a considerable sense of relief. A state of Zen-like transcendence has descended since the election results and I can now flick off the radio or skip past the news-stands (we have no TV) with the sure and certain knowledge that the die has been cast and any burden of responsibility lifted. As a former Remainer (I long since ceased to see any prospect of the UK staying in the EU) I no longer have to shoulder any blame for the interminable negotiations, runaway costs and post-truth politicking of the foreseeable future.

In summary, the events of this month seem to have brought me some relief from my Brexiety, as I develop into a mere bystander to another period of governmental Brexicosis, accompanied by the continuing Brexodus of talent and investment, possibly culminating in a severe case of National Regrexit.

Let’s hope for a somewhat Redacted version of my travel horizons in 2020

(* 14th Century leader of the Peasant’s Revolt, put to death by Richard II)

Categories: Britain

Leave a Reply