Intoxicated England needs to sober itself up

DEAR England, I’m worried about you, writes Suzanne Harrington.

You’re like an old friend who has become outrageously drunk at a party and started throwing punches, your drinks spiked by something poisonously intoxicating and not actually real. But instead of sobering up and looking a bit sheepish, you’ve decided to front it out. Ramp it up.

Throw more punches. Swinging into the empty air around you, as everyone steps back, hands over mouths, eyes widening, respect draining away. Respect replaced initially by bafflement, then amusement, but now derision and — dare I say it — contempt. You are making such a fool of yourself, England. And it’s making the rest of us cringe.