I thought things were going well. We were in the EU and Britain was being drained of its troublesome sovereignty as I, through my subscription to Everyday Feminism, was being radically unchained from my toxic masculinity.
Brussels knows best. Who needs to know the names of the suits in charge anyway? They’re European, nice shoes, brandy on tap. They’re just better at managing things than us. We’re all Europeans now, of course, but they’re a bit more European.
Then it happened. Those… people, up north. In Grimhampton or wherever. They all ruined it with their feckless Leave votes. I mean, I feel sorry for them, because they don’t have proper books, and the Guardian probably isn’t sold up there. Why the hell didn’t we send them some copies of the Guardian? We could’ve made an audio version, or made the words a bit simpler. The Guardian informed us quite clearly to vote Remain. And the BBC too. They get the BBC, don’t they?
The thing is, they didn’t know what they were voting for. They thought the EU was going to ban darts, and they’re all racist anyway. They don’t understand that having national borders is racist, because… let’s see, what did the Guardian say..? Yes, that’s right, it’s racist to have borders because borders are racist.
Perhaps we could have written that on the backs of scratchcards, so they’d have got the message.
If we could just get them to understand our liberal thinking. It’s simple: progressiveness is all about keeping things exactly as they are. But when we tell them leaving the EU will change things they seem pleased. I just don’t get it, is it because they’re low information? Or post-truth? Or—did anyone mention?–actually racist.
I’m ashamed to get my passport out now. I must show that I’m not a bigot. I changed my Facebook profile picture to an EU flag, and even did my Remainer friend’s online survey that was shared around our Remainer group, to see which way we’d vote if there was another referendum. I clicked Remain and do you know what? Remain won! This could be an effective format for a second referendum.
A further tragedy is that 2016 has taken so many of our most revolutionary artists. I feel certain that if Ronnie Corbett were alive now he’d be marching to overthrow democracy and enforce the result that I personally favour.
Some say it’s better to accept a fair outcome and move on, rather than fatally undermine democracy forever, but they’re just bigots. I know, historically, it’s dictators and tyrants who’ve shown contempt for democracy, but there’s a big difference: they were bad guys, whereas I’m almost religiously convinced of my own moral and political infallibility, so, what could go wrong?
The most important thing for next year is that we absolutely do not change our political strategy. We need to let people know that they’re wrong and stupid. We must spell out to them what their true motives were in voting incorrectly, and reinforce that they’re wretched, provincial neanderthals. That way they’ll soon come over to our way of thinking.
They seem to take in messages written on the sides of buses, so I thought something like, “Hey, racists, do as you’re told” might work.
Also, it’s vital that they only read approved news. A hopeful and positive goal we can all work together on is crushing dissent by banning off-message newspapers.
I’m starting a new campaign group called Good Not Bad. I want to keep the message simple. We aim to change people’s thinking and make them embrace love, hope, and inclusivity. We’ll do this through mob harassment and public shamings.
If all else fails, then there’s a last resort. We’ll put bad voters in camps and make them watch groupthink-compliant satirical panel shows, until their opinions are safely neutered and they can be released back into their boggy, un-European natural habitat.
This post is also at Country Squire Magazine