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Old 01.02.2020, 13:38
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Re: The Brexit referendum thread: potential consequences for GB, EU and the Brits in

Last nights scenes in Parliament Square were truly embarrassing, I might need surgery to remove the cringe from my face

Quote:
So it is with a genuine sense of sorrow that I must report that on Friday 31 January, between the hours of 9pm and 11pm, Westminster’s Parliament Square played host to a static, knuckle dragging carnival of the irredeemably stupid.

Shirtless men clambered over the statue of Churchill. For some bizarre reason, part of the warm-up act involved playing parts of an old Michael Cockerell documentary on Britain’s history with the EU. “F*** off John Major, you c***!” shouted one man when the former prime minister appeared on screen. “He should be hanging by his f****** neck!” the same man shouted at Tony Blair.

They absolutely revelled in it. It wasn’t merely that a singalong to “Rule Britannia”, with the words appearing on a giant screen, was infinitely beyond them. (“The azure what? Az-u main? What’s this? I don’t know thi – RULE BRITANNIA! BRITANNIA RULES THE WAVES!” Entirely verbatim quote, that one).

At one point, when they tried to get the crowd to join in with “Land of Hope and Glory”, the three on-stage singers were so poor that the crowd refused to join in in protest.

Nigel Farage was there, obviously, calling it “the greatest moment in our nation’s modern history.”

Well if it was the greatest moment in our nation’s modern history, it is a matter of public record that the best Farage could find to help him usher it in was a very strange man called Dominic Frisby, singing a very strange song called “17 Million F*** Offs.”

The list of people “the British told to f*** off” was long indeed.

“The IMF, the treasury, Tony Blair, John Major, Femi Weirdo, Jess Philips, George Osborne.” It went on and on and on. By the time it got to the end, the 17 million f*** offs may even have found themselves outnumbered. Whether, in fact the IMF, the Treasury, Tony Blair and absolutely everybody else will, in the end, turn out to have been right, and this lot wrong, is as close to a certainty as anything in politics can possibly be.

But for now, we must go through the motions. Dance the dance. By the time the final countdown came you could scarcely get on to Whitehall. There were thousands there. Not many thousands, but thousands certainly.

I’ve listened back now to the sound on my dictaphone that records Britain’s moment of liberation and it goes exactly like this: “Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! FREEDOM!!!! YEAAAASSSS!!!! F****** FREEDOM!!!! WE F****** DID IT!!! F****** FREEDOM!!! F****** DO ONE!! F****** DO ONE!!!!”

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