Oh gawd, you still think we are leaving the EU don't you?
You're just inventing bollux stories to scare yourselves when the lights go out, even though you know you'll have a nitelite anyway.
Even daft Donald Tusk and his cherryless cake aren't going to get us to leave. Mrs May's run out ideas and dress sense, Boris is dancing in a bit of scrub land he thinks might be a sea of wheat (see Procul Harum) and Jacob Mees van der Rogg is shaking patrician hands with chinless Tory delegates who are universally incapable of naming even one of their own party's policies. There's no majority for anything in Parliament, the Europeans bizarrely don't seem to want us to go now (why they couldn't say that loudly before the referendum is beyond me), and no one has a clue how the public would vote if given another chance after two years plus of Brexit torture. Kent becomes a lorry park? It has more chance of becoming a cannabis park, a sculpture park, an underwater theme park ..........
Why would anyone want to join a club no one can ever leave I ask myself? Who is directing this horror, Wes Craven or Jimmy Boyle?
Our heron leader is taking us nowhere and the rest of the world is going to think we're mental. That's all.
Why's no one worrying about the effects of not brexiting? The influx of cheap Balkan labour keen to exploit the new opportunities, plunging wage-rates, the inevitable move to then tie ourselves into the stupid euro, the expense of shelling out for Jean-Claude's drunken European army, the cost of getting back our place at a table at which no one will listen to our voice in future ..... we'll be a little satellite of France and Germany who'll have exercised their power and proved that they are our mummy and daddy.
When we stay because we can't think of anything else to do, things won't be the same you know. And you becoming a satellite of a kind-of Oliver Twist country can't be too great for a Scotland tied into us. And the weaker we are, the tighter we'll hold on to you.
You're just inventing bollux stories to scare yourselves when the lights go out, even though you know you'll have a nitelite anyway.
Even daft Donald Tusk and his cherryless cake aren't going to get us to leave. Mrs May's run out ideas and dress sense, Boris is dancing in a bit of scrub land he thinks might be a sea of wheat (see Procul Harum) and Jacob Mees van der Rogg is shaking patrician hands with chinless Tory delegates who are universally incapable of naming even one of their own party's policies. There's no majority for anything in Parliament, the Europeans bizarrely don't seem to want us to go now (why they couldn't say that loudly before the referendum is beyond me), and no one has a clue how the public would vote if given another chance after two years plus of Brexit torture. Kent becomes a lorry park? It has more chance of becoming a cannabis park, a sculpture park, an underwater theme park ..........
Why would anyone want to join a club no one can ever leave I ask myself? Who is directing this horror, Wes Craven or Jimmy Boyle?
Our heron leader is taking us nowhere and the rest of the world is going to think we're mental. That's all.
Why's no one worrying about the effects of not brexiting? The influx of cheap Balkan labour keen to exploit the new opportunities, plunging wage-rates, the inevitable move to then tie ourselves into the stupid euro, the expense of shelling out for Jean-Claude's drunken European army, the cost of getting back our place at a table at which no one will listen to our voice in future ..... we'll be a little satellite of France and Germany who'll have exercised their power and proved that they are our mummy and daddy.
When we stay because we can't think of anything else to do, things won't be the same you know. And you becoming a satellite of a kind-of Oliver Twist country can't be too great for a Scotland tied into us. And the weaker we are, the tighter we'll hold on to you.