A
few days ago, Andrea Leadsom, Leader of the House of Commons (and a feisty
Brexiteer), announced that there would be the dreaded “meaningful vote” on
Theresa May’s exit deal from the European Union on Tuesday 11 December preceded
by a 5-day (yes, 5-ruddy-days!) debate. The prospect of this hellish period,
complete with endless discussion of the options – hard exit, Norway /
EFTA-style, Canada +++, renegotiation or no deal, all providing a prominent
forum for our hideously posturing politicians – with a deafening accompaniment
of blood-curdling prophecies from the metropolitan media, the BBC and The Bank
of England, to name just three tainted sources, is surely enough for all sane
citizens to open their atlases and try to choose some bolt-hole to escape the
horror of it all.
Now we all know this 5-day fiesta is a total waste of
time. Theresa’s deal has not got a prayer of a chance of being voted through. I
confess to wobbling for about an hour. Surely a deal is better than no deal and
Michael Gove, whose opinion I respect, said; Do not let the perfect be the enemy of the good. At least nominally
we would be out of the EU, in charge of our frontiers, able to control incoming
migrants and be half-shot of the ECJ. But there is just too much wrong – a
restricted ability to do trade deals with other blocs, lack of clarity about UK
control of fisheries, vague promises about a UK/EU trade deal, convoluted
interference from Brussels and the Irish Republic in the affairs of Northern
Ireland and EU hostility over Gibraltar- a snip at £39bn. So, Theresa will lose
the vote and probably will also lose the leadership of the Tories to some more
assertive and ambitious personality, hopefully one who actually believes in
Brexit. I have no idea what will happen at that point but we need a miracle to
unite the nation.
What escape route can we take? I had a yen for Easter Island in the remotest South
East Pacific about 1,200 miles from her nearest inhabited neighbour. But, alas,
the sovereign power there, Chile, only grants 30-day visitor’s visas. Moreover,
the dumbly impassive stone heads for which the islands are famous, are much too
reminiscent of Brussels negotiators for comfort.
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| Stone Heads (moai) on Easter Island |
Another possible bolt-hole is Pitcairn, only 2 miles across and a handy 3,000 miles from New
Zealand, which sends a provision boat every 3 months. There are only 50
residents, all descendants of the eight 1790 mutineers from HMS Bounty, who had prudently taken
along some Tahitian women. Frankly the place sounds boring, the romance
confined to the various famous movies.
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| Marlon Brando as Fletcher Christian |
I suppose some Atlantic islands qualify for selection,
balmy Ascension with its airbase, St Helena evoking defeated Napoleon or
rather chilly Tristan da Cunha, but
I must not assume a warm welcome. The natives are not always friendly as that
unlucky missionary John Chau lethally discovered as he landed on Sentinel Island last week in the Bay of Bengal.
On reflection I think somewhere much closer to home
may fit the bill. As a native of the North East of Scotland I would consider
elevated Tomintoul in Moray, the
highest village in the Highlands, but easily cut off in the winter.
Alternatively, there is blameless Auchnagatt
(but the local pub has closed) or windswept Cruden Bay in Buchan whose splendid sands and golf course delight
during the short summer months. Yet none of these places are out of range of
hoydenish Nicola Sturgeon and the gnarled legion of her SNP fanatics.
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| Pals Theresa and Nicola pose unconvincingly |
I could find civilised sanctuary amid the Cotswold
villages and market towns – say, Bibury,
Burford or mellow Chipping Campden but it is rather a
happy hunting-ground for the metropolitan elite with whom I am currently out of
sympathy.
So instead I will barricade myself in my home in
Brexit-supporting Folkestone, confine
my reading to the staunch Telegraph, block
my ears to Remainer Project Fear scare stories and hysteria, sip delicious
sparkling Chapel Down from local
Tenterden vineyards, consume crusty and gravy- soaked steak and kidney pie,
listen to Elgar and Vaughan Williams and read Donne and Kipling while awaiting
deliverance from the hosts of Midian.
SMD
30.11.18
Text Copyright Sidney Donald 2018
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