The secret of comedy…

Hey guess what I found—a polling card, that means I get to vote today. A few months back I discussed the prospect of the referendum with a friend. He’s of the opposed view to mine. He votes the other way in general elections too, he’s a true blue and although my days of, up the workers and ‘Freedom for Tooting’ have long been trodden into the rank soil of disillusion by hypocrisy and corruption, I still can’t quite shake that habit. Despite this disparity of opinion, it was a cordial discussion, we discussed the likely result more than expound upon the righteousness of our own side.

He asked ‘What’ll happen?’.

I was pretty self-assured in my reply, ‘We’ll never be allowed to leave, there’s just too much at stake’.

Since then I’ve sat back and watched the campaign unfold, moral cowardice on both sides, Corbyn chose career over conviction, the Brexit crowd can’t bring themselves to utter the real reasons for leaving. The twins, hypocrisy and sanctimony have been evident in equal measure. The lies, standard practice barely worth the mention, except that this time, the fearmongering has an unctuous taint, that has already spawned a toxic legacy. Yet amid it all I remained sanguine and unmoved; I wasn’t even sure if I was registered to vote, I let the deadline slip deliberately I was that apathetic—then Jo Cox happened.

…timing.

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~ by deadspidereye on June 23, 2016.

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