The Final Referendum

The film 'The Matrix'. Swallow the red pill for reality the blue for an artificially constructed illusion

Another day, another call for a re-run of the Brexit referendum. Bring it on, I say. Why not?

I say that as someone who, due to a transport failure, walked seven miles to vote Leave, the only time I’d bothered to vote for anything in years. I say it in full confidence that we’d win again and with a greater margin this time. That’s just based on the anecdotal evidence that I keep meeting people who loathe the EU but voted Remain because of Project Fear, are angry at themselves for getting conned and won’t get fooled again. I reckon Remoaner hopes that a greater turn-out of brainwashed younger people would swing the vote this time are groundless; in fact they already turned out in similar proportions to the rest of us the first time.

So I think those of us on the Leave side have little to fear from a second referendum. Only – why should we bother? What’s in it for us? We already won – why would we gamble that, no matter how small the risk? What could they possibly entice us with? When you lose at cards, you can’t play another hand unless you can pony up another stake.

Here is my proposal to end all the bickering: a Double or Quits referendum. If we lose this time, fine, we’ll stay in the EU. But if we win, we get something more as well. There has to be an incentive for us. And, lest this nonsense go on forever with re-run after re-run until they get the result they want, the Remoaners, to echo Nassim Nicholas Taleb, have to put some skin in the game. 

Perhaps you have your own suggestions about what that could be, but here are some of the ones I have come up with, just spitballing, and always with an eye to magnanimity, reconciliation, and healing the divisions in our nation. 

– If we win again, Bob Geldof, Eddie Izzard and other prominent Remoaners have to go and live in Brussels. An acceptable alternative would be that they will simply have their mouths epoxyed shut. And wear clown costumes and an L for Loser on their foreheads for a period of one year. And perhaps have ropes tied to their joints and be made to take part in degrading human marionette shows and forced to slap their own faces. I was going to add that Geldof should have to sign on as cabin boy on a British trawler for six months, but fishermen have a hard enough life already. 

– If we win again, a statue of Nigel Farage will be placed on the empty plinth in Trafalgar Square. A golden statue. A parody of the Mannequin Pis endlessly and merrily urinating on a frieze of cringeing Eurocrats below. (Oh – better-endowed than the Mannequin Pis, though. I envisage the tool would be a vast and inspiring civil engineering project and that the jewellery of all Remoan ladies and Izzard would have to be melted down to make the gold for it.)

–  If we win again, everyone who works for the BBC will be required to end every programme with the words ‘God Save the Queen’ and then stand for the National Anthem. They would be wearing comedy clown trousers which would automatically fall down when they stood up, revealing Union Jack boxer shorts or g-strings. And they will be forced to say the word ‘Rotherham’, out loud, no mumbling, once a day. BBC comedians will be forbidden to tell jokes about Trump or Brexiteers for, let’s not be cruel, they might actually burst, two weeks. Their place in the schedules to be taken by Will Franken and Roy Chubby Brown in the interim. Steve Bannon to be made Director General. The Groucho Club to be redecorated with photos depicting the life and triumphs of Donald Trump.

– If we win again, bounties to be placed on the heads of prominent Eurocrats, or the SAS to be despatched to kidnap them, to be charged with whatever I can think of and put through show-trials and, eventually, unethical, inhumane and humiliating scientific experiments on live television. Juncker, for example, would be forced to endlessly run a maze with a bottle of brandy at the end of it while being pursued by a genetically-engineered minotaur-type beast with the body of a man and the head of a British bulldog. 

– If we win again, British history has to be taught in schools as though it’s something to be proud of.

– If we win again, Britain will be cut loose from her moorings and towed to mid-Atlantic to be further away from the madness.

– If we win again, we leave the UN too.

– If we win again, we get the old editor of the Daily Mail back.

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7 Comments on The Final Referendum

  1. no need for another referendum just for the spineless Tories to wake up and get rid of Mother Theresa and Her pisspoor cabinet when will the gormless Remoaners read a dictonary and look up the word Democracy and move on and f off to Europe if they so wish

  2. Was not “Colonel Bogey” (not Bogie) an American tune composed possibly (no Wikipedia help, please) by John Philip Sousa?

    But what I don’t get about some British people, such as our estimable Mr Hosking – why do you prefer an elected head of state, such as the Duchess of Sussex, instead of an unelected one? If you go to an electoral system to replace the House of Windsor, God Save England.

    Do you hope for a system in which you can vote for Elton John
    as your next ceremonial head of state – which is likely what would happen – or will there be a list of candidates vetted in advance by your betters, which is hardly *democratic*?

    God save England. (Did I say that already?)

    • No, Nay, Never. It was composed by a British Army Bandmaster, Lt Rickets, in 1914, according to legend on a golf course, hence the Bogie part of it. A “bogie” is a golfing term I believe and the Colonel as that you were unlikely to find anyone more senior on a golf course so it was always he who won. An elected head of state? Tony Baloney? Major? The Gobbling old goat?

  3. I agree with the last four injunctions, but I think it is time our national anthem reflected the aspirations of the people, and not a prayer to God (?) to perpetuate a dynasty and an unelected Head of State. Our principal objective must be the security of or country, and whatever you make of Godfrey Bloom, hate-figure of the left and PC brigade, his views on that subject in “The Way Ahead” on the web-site Going Postal seem to me to be a rational solution.

    • Never. But as a sort of compromise let’s keep Our National Anthem for the more revered, official and meaningful occasions when our Sovereign Lady or one of her family is present or perhaps for the Last Night of the Proms. For football matches and similar mob circuses let’s have that greatest of all rousing tunes, Colonel Bogie, for which there are no words, therefore no awkward looking slebs mumbling, heads hung in shame, horrified at the thought of mouthing the G word. For Colonel Bogie the mobbier of mobs can be guaranteed to provide their own lyrics which will be bawled with all the enthusiasm they can muster, calling mainly into question the prowess or otherwise of the Eurocratic Pantheon.

  4. Adrian Jones says: “I say that as someone who, due to a transport failure, walked seven miles to vote Leave.”

    Seven miles. *Respect*, Adrian, as we say down here in the ‘hood. But let me also ask this: I’ve got many “Coronation Street” DVD episodes produced between 1960 and 1968, and none – not one – features criminal Pakistanis or Jamaicans. What is your problem with immigrants, the main thrust of Brexit?