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The Diva is away on holiday, so with her usual magnanimity she is  taking the opportunity to give a voice to the other side of the Brexit debate.  This week you can read the simple but heartfelt words of the ordinary Brexiteer in the street in Diary of a Brexiteer by Geoffrey X

Wednesday.

Went to get some euros for upcoming trip to the house in the Dordogne. Cost a ruddy fortune – £231.00 for €250.00. Outrageous. Used to cost £190.00. These EU people will stop at nothing. Just shows how desperate they are to stop us going. Sudden pain while I was standing in the bank. Looked down and saw hole right through foot with blood gushing out. Hurt like the blazes.

Had to wait hours in casualty. Not enough nurses. Place was teeming with people, all with the same problem. I recognised some of them from Prime Minister’s Question Time. Even saw Jacob Rees-Mogg – he’s rather a hero, so very exciting.  Although nothing wrong with his foot, he was there to get his time-travel vaccinations.  We had quite a chat. He told me not to worry about the fall in the pound, it’ll all come out in the wash. At least that’s what his nanny had told him – he didn’t have much experience of the wash himself, he said.  Well, you wouldn’t with a name like that.

Finally got to see someone, and the nurse took one look at my foot and then had the nerve to ask if I had voted for Brexit.  Bloody foreigners, coming over here taking our jobs.  Of course I did, I said – and you people should be jolly glad: the NHS is going to get an extra three hundred and fifty million a week.  Fact.  And you know what?  She laughed in my face and walked out leaving a packet of waterproof plasters on the table.

Then I went to my club for a restorative snifter – well, I say my club; I used to be a member, but I gave it up last year – the subscription had got ludicrous and I was fed up with all the ridiculous rules.  Anyway, I sat down in my usual chair by the fire, but instead of bringing me a whisky and soda, they told me I had to leave as I was no longer a member.   I pointed out that I had been sitting in this chair for the last forty years, and I was not going to be told I could not by some Polish whippersnapper waiter just because I had given up my membership. The next thing I know, I am being thrown out on my ear.

I could have sworn that Jacob Rees-Mogg was sitting next to me in the gutter but it can’t have been. He told me himself that he was off to the nineteenth century to get some tips from Disraeli on leadership elections and how to run the country without a welfare state – and if he had time he would have a quick stopover in the 1820s to gen up on the Corn Laws.  Apparently they were a great help to the country!  But he said that I should take no notice of anyone trying to tell me they led to a million deaths during the Irish potato famine.  And I shan’t.  You don’t get a name like Rees-Mogg without knowing what you’re talking about.

A lot of nonsense in the news about David Davis turning up to the Brexit negotiations with no notes and leaving after an hour.  Of course the man can read.  Anyway, I don’t know what all the fuss is about – I mean how difficult can it be to extricate ourselves from a simple organisation dealing with – well, I don’t really know what, but whatever it is, they were doing a jolly rotten job of it.

Bit of a blow finding out how close we are to Europe. Handy for buying and selling things I suppose.  But well worth giving it all up for … well, and –

Anyway the Queen must be very pleased. Get her crown back, so to speak. And quite unnecessary all that stuff about her being upset because she’s married to a Greek.  As if.

Next week The Diva will be back.  Unless she’s still stuffing her face in Tuscany.

 

 

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