Stop now Brexit —this is just (bendy) bananas

Brexit, says Milk The Cow podcast, is “Like when Geri Halliwell overestimated her viability as a solo artist and left the Spice Girls.”

As the rest of the Euro Spices stare transfixed, the way you would if you saw your unattractive middle aged neighbours doing hardcore BDSM in their front window with the lights on, Britain continues to chop its own head off to spite its face, rather than facing up to losing face by admitting the whole thing has been a gigantic cock-up. Nobody can get Britain to stop, despite the safe word being repeatedly screamed in 23 officially recognised EU languages from across the Channel.

Never mind the economy — the real issue here appears to be bendy bananas, foreign office cleaners and the wrong kind of lightbulb. Britain will go down in history as the place which self-destructed because some power-mad fibbers printed a made-up number on the side of a bus, and austerity-addled Little Britain believed it.

Imagine living here at the moment. Britain feels drunk – nasty drunk, not convivial drunk. There’s even a mock-up of the BBC News logo that reads Oh Fuck Now What. Every morning I wake up in my English house and kiss my Irish passport, as friends from all over the EU speculate whether to still apply for that new job, or if now is a good time to have that baby. Major life decisions impacted by the slippery gamble of a vanished politician.

The EU citizens already here with houses, jobs, and kids with English accents —of whom we are literally millions — wonder if anything will actually change, as the most vulnerable (the poorer ones from outside the EU) are scapegoated and sent back to places they haven’t been since infancy.

Nice one, Brexit. Taking a leaf out of the Donald Trump book of heartless pointless point-scoring. And we thought you were better than that. Apparently we were wrong.

Almost comically, the word ‘divorce’ continues to be bandied about in relation to Brexit, as though Britain has even a scrap of legitimate bargaining power.

Doesn’t divorce means a permanent separation between two equal parties? Brexit is nothing of the sort. Brexit is a massive hissy fit, like one of those mornings when you wake up and can’t remember what the fight was about, but your arm is still broken. It’s storming out and slamming the door, before you realise you’re locked out and it’s raining and they’re not letting you back in again, because frankly why should they, when you’ve been such a massive pain in the arse.

It’s neither victory, nor freedom, nor progress, but a gigantic splurging mess that’s going to drag on and on, and cause suffering to ordinary people. Not the chumps who called it – they’re all fine, thanks – but the long-suffering peasants. The ordinary people, British and non-British.

Cheers, Brexit.