Brexit Means Broken Exit

brexitI don’t pretend to understand politics. I really don’t. I generally shy away from that side of things when it comes to news preferring to focus more on mummies that look like Paul McCartney or that time scientists grew an ear on the back of a mouse (or, to look at it another way, grew a mouse on the back of an ear).

But the way the world is at the moment it’s impossible to completely distance yourself. It’s now become commonplace to discuss – or dictate, in some cases – your political beliefs with your friends on Facebook. Where once a status might have been a bit of whimsy about a large crisp, it’s now more likely to be some long tirade about something that they care about but you don’t.

I miss the days of the crisp.

With Trump being everywhere – and I can’t look away from it because it’s like a car crash happening in such slow motion it will go on for four years – and Brexit, it’s hard to boot up a web browser or turn on the TV and find something about it.

Brexit, at the minute, seems to have hit a stall. As we all know, Brexit means Brexit. But we’re now well into this whole procedure and that’s all we do actually know. Just that it means the word that it is. Brexit is like trying to make your way through a hedge maze carrying a split bag of hedge seeds in one hand and a leaky watering can of Instant Hedge Grower in the other. After weeks and weeks and weeks of talks, what can we actually say is happening.

Honestly, what can we say.

No-one has a clue.

Brexit means Brexit.

That is as much as we know. Our government says the ball is in the EU court, and the EU says “no mate, we smashed it back over the net… it’s your turn.” So we can’t even agree on who should be doing the next bit of it. How the hell are we supposed to separate the two entities?

Of course, it’s difficult. It’s not been done before. We’re breaking new ground and all that. But, I think, pitching our terms and conditions as being more-or-less exactly as they are now, but without contributing anything for the deal doesn’t seem like a way forward. You don’t, for example, move out of your parents house but return there every night to sleep, every meal time for food or every time you need a poo. Unless you’re in an American Sitcom, then you do that all the time.

But that seems to be what we want from Brexit. We want trade deals with Europe. We want freedom of movement. We want all the stuff that we have now, but just with less tabloid stories about conkers being banned because of Brussels.

I mean, yes, we do want trade deals with Europe because the way the chief Oompa Loompa is going parts of the US, South Korea and Japan are only going be able to trade in things that glow in the dark and – in the case of Japan – massive sea monsters.

The world is doomed…