It’s not my country, these are not my own political concerns, not my people, etc., etc., so please excuse my ignorance in not understanding why this “Brexit” business requires any sort of “deal” to be made. After all, what could be easier than leaving? In Paul Simon’s words:
“You just slip out the back, Jack.
Make a new plan, Stan.
You don’t need to be coy, Roy.
Just get yourself free.
Hop on the bus, Gus.
You don’t need to discuss much.
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free.”
Or, to recall Douglas Adams on the dolphins leaving Earth, just say: “So long and thanks for all the fish.”
Unless, of course, someone in Brussels is trying to sprout something that, to me, looks suspiciously like a misguided attempt at blackmail. Why can such feeble arguments not be safely ignored? Disruption of trade? If you have something other people want, they will come. If you want something they have badly enough, you’ll probably expect to pay more. The same applies even within Britain’s own borders, after all, and, when I lived there, treated certain kinds of cheese as a rare luxury. Difficulty of travel? Who needs those other people anyway? What need is there for any of our type to visit them in their own lairs – which immigration has, unfortunately, rendered no longer the pleasant enough places they once were. The last time I checked, the UK still issued its own passports. Anyone with a serious enough reason to visit the continent should consider the minor inconvenience of having them examined by a Frog as part of the travel price.
Those who stand to make money from such things may fear that the Channel tunnel may fall into disuse, but how about this alternative scheme: use it as an exhaust duct, blowing Britain’s homegrown noxious gases, not least political speeches, eastward.
Elvis has left the building.