Just when everyone thought that all that whingeing and whining might at last be over and we’d have to find something else to entertain us with, tens of thousands of Remainer sore-losers hit the streets of London Saturday. All the while whipped up into an hysterical frenzy by the Brussells lick-spittles in the media and the entertainment industry, proclaiming their undying love for Big Brother Brussels and demanding a new referendum. There they were, the Guardianistas, the BBC commissars, the multiculti luvvies and progressives, and the celebrity bleeding-hearts: the Benedict Cumerbachs, the Ian McKellens (who was last seen fawning and sucking up to London’s new Muslim Lord Mayor) and the Bob Geldofs. And a whole lot of other cry-babies pretending they didn’t know what “Leave” meant.
These, the “elite-erati”, are all entirely comfortable with outsourcing the control of their country to the Brussels Politburo. Nor do they give two hoots about the incremental extinction of their own culture by hostile, alien communities according to the whim of some deranged German hausfrau. And they don’t give a flying-fuck, for that matter, about the latest idiotic diktat from anonymous human-rights apparatchiks sitting on their fat butts in a modern, eco-friendly building located in downtown Strasbourg somewhere. Stinking rich, or comfortably well-off, thank you very much, they are safely removed from all that. And also clearly morally superior from all those racists and Islamophobes who voted to get out.
Courtesy of gated communities and fat wallets, the elite-erati are entirely immune from the consequences of the EUs ridiculous edicts, particularly all that awful migration shit. So much so that voting to leave the EU must have been an act of out and out act of racism – it can’t have been anything else.
The sneering elites know that their kids at school will never have to sit next to children who have been taught to despise them and everything the West stands for. And they don’t have to wait in a queue for housing or health care while watching thousands of migrants get first priority. They don’t have to worry about their daughters being raped for refusing to cover up while going out for a leisurely walk in their own neighbourhood, or finding themselves having to learn to speak Arabic in order to shop in the high street every day.
Because, if things really get bad, the elites can easily pack up the family and bugger off out of the country whenever they want, some of them by private jet, to their lavish, XVI century Bordeaux chateauxs, or by super yacht to a gated community somewhere on Rhode Island. And to go on feeling morally good about themselves, as they continue to rake it in, all they need do is pop their heads up over the parapet every now and then, and virtue-signal their enthusiasm for the swarms of foreigners about to trash their old childhood stamping grounds. By giving a standing ovation to the arrival of the latest boatload from the Middle East, for example. Or by applauding the election of the newest British Muslim lord mayor.
This unrepresentative swill has gone absolutely mental since a majority of the great unwashed dared to ignore their advice. Telling the EU dictatorship – an unaccountable, corrupt, supranational bunch of crypto-Marxist bureaucrats hiding out of sight in Brussels – that they should, in effect, quietly fuck off and that “we’ll take it from here on,” was really beyond the pale. That they dared use their pissy little democratic rights to detach themselves from the Brussels nightmare, just because they want their sovereignty back, is outrageous.
A single act of mutiny by the plebs against the ruling classes spells disaster and, unless overturned, it will force the well-heeled elites to devise new ways to line their pockets at the expense of ordinary people. And now that the proles seemed to have wised up, that won’t be so easy.
So they marched on London, to no effect, delighting us all.
After taking to Twitter and Facebook the previous week, damning the racists, the Islamophobes and the bigots who don’t like being ruled by a gaggle of unelected foreign bureaucrats, they took to the streets. Angry, crying hysterically, they protested that the referendum should be immediately reversed, citing a while lot of silly excuses. Or a new referendum run, over and over again, until they get the right result. To support their ridiculous demand, they proclaimed to Brussels their undying love for Europe, waving banners unashamedly daubed with fawning, obsequious slogans of admiration and adulation that would make even Kim Jong-Un vomit in disgust. But I just laughed at them, watching on TV, as did, I’m quite certain, many others.
Meantime on the continent the aftershocks reverberate.
Marine Le Penn sang praises for the British and celebrated the Brexit result by eating fish and chips, decorated with miniature Union Jack flags – which, coming from such a great French patriot, was in itself quite astounding. The AfD’s Frauke Petry is likewise delighted at the result, with the overwhelming majority of their supporters now demanding a Dexit. Gert Wilders and other anti-immigration leaders in different EU countries are cock-a-hoop. Polls show large minorities and some majorities in France, Austria, The Netherlands and Sweden want out too. And Brexit will embolden them further, as no one really thought that such a thing was possible.
All this will be more than just a nightmare for the EU’s ruling political classes.
They all must be feeling sick in the stomach. For now (with apologies to Marx) a spectre is haunting Europe — the spectre of democracy. All the powers of The West will now enter into an unholy alliance to exorcise this spectre: Obama, Cameron, Merkel, Hollande, The Pope, the IMF, the UN and NSA’s spies.
What remains to be seen is if these powers can succeed in time before the EU completely implodes.
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