With the true conviction of a vicar’s daughter, Theresa May triggered Article 50 and marched Britain off a cliff named Brexit. No bands played, the Queen did not attend, no cannons fired a salute and no one knows what the hell will happen, but the deed is done.
A pitifully feeble Parliament gazed at its hands in its lap and allowed a fatally flawed referendum to change the course of British history. Without so much as a whimper, they nit-picked the choice of their Prime Minister’s leather trousers as Great Britain became less great on their watch.
The Queen said naught and I understand the constitutional reluctance of the monarchy to enter the political arena, but why have a monarchy at all if it chooses not to speak out when national policy is in such existential turmoil? And what might this unilateral decision by the vicar’s daughter cost the nation?
To begin with, it might well cost the loss of both Scotland and Northern Ireland, one of which might be a great loss and the other somewhat of a relief. Banks will flee, but then it’s only a two-letter difference between banks that flee and those that fleece. The next great banking failure can be solved by someone else—let the Americans shoulder this one alone.
Air travel of course gets complicated, as do those pesky visas between Britain and Europe. Sir Richard Dyson will, one presumes, have a duty laid on all those clever hand-dryers, vacuum cleaners and bladeless fans sold in Europe. Universities (and their students) will suffer in both directions and low-wage workers may become scarce but, what the hell, everyone in Britain these days is becoming a low-wage worker so it ought to balance out.
Question: Is Britain still a nuclear power if their nukes are all bottled up in Scotland and Scotland goes independent? Ah well, someone will sort all that out. London’s bound to be a bit less of a financial center but, on the bright side, perhaps rents will become a tad more realistic. So many unknowns and no Donald Trump to blame it on.
. . . merely a vicar’s daughter.