ABHI Brexit Update: Watch This Space
I wonder how many of the 101 year olds have voted already, thus rendering all the bull, bluster and hyperbole that we will have to endure over the next week or so a complete, utter, self-indulgent, irrelevant waste of time that our country simply does not have at the moment.
Some of them seem to be following the age-old advice to vote early and vote often. The news this week that around 1,000 Conservative Party members had inadvertently received duplicate ballot papers, did rather make me chuckle. I had always had it that jiggery-pokery at election time was the preserve of the Left. When the Trade Union movement’s powers were at their (probably inappropriate) zenith, my Uncle was a Shop Steward with the rather infamous Transport and General Workers. They were quite something back then. I was a student in Eastbourne, and when I arrived there in the September of 1983, the western end of the town’s promenade, close to Meads village, was dominated by a huge, incongruently modern construction known locally as “The Kremlin.” It was the T&G’s conference centre. They were, as we might have said, not short of a bob or two.
My Uncle was hardcore, visiting Grunwick as a flying picket. He told me how votes on industrial action, which took place at fairly regular intervals, were conducted. There were no secret ballots so people tended to do the “right” thing. Doing the “wrong” thing required physical as well as moral courage. He regaled me with one story of how a motion had been passed by 80 votes to 13 when there were fewer than 60 men in the room. What you did was stand very close to the person in front and raise both arms. I am not sure it could deliver worse results than we have managed in recent years using more accepted methodologies.
Speaking of Trade Unions, they all had a pow wow on Monday and, probably as a result, Labour now has a position on a second referendum. It has challenged the incoming PM to go back to the people and will support Remain if it prevents a no deal or poor deal negotiated by the Government. What would happen if there was a snap election and Corbyn ended up in No10 (farfetched) and was only able to negotiate a rotten deal himself, is what you might call a moot point.
In the wacky race, The Hunt has committed to restoring the Navy to what it was in days of yore. I suppose it is how we rather successfully settled trade disputes for a few hundred years. I do not expect that it will do him much good, the words “Boris” and “landslide” are appearing in close proximity with worrying frequency. Meanwhile, himself has been at it again, refusing to rule out proroguing Parliament if it is the only way he can deliver a 31st October exit. He is facing opposition from some unlikely sources. Dominic Grieve, who continues to be a thorn in the side of his own party, tabled a series of amendments to the Northern Ireland (Executive Formation) Bill on Tuesday night, which would stop the forcing through of a no deal. Two of them were voted down, but a third got through in somewhat bizarre circumstances. Government Whip, Jo Churchill, who has actually been a very good friend to us at ABHI Towers over the years, delivered a proxy vote on behalf of Chloe Smith, who is enjoying maternity leave, but then forgot to cast her own vote. The result being that the Government lost by one. Watch this space. Then Sir John Major appeared on the Today programme on Wednesday saying he would launch a judicial review if the Blonde Buffoon went down the proroguing route. I think Boris will be ok on that front, as the former PM is about to become totally absorbed in the upcoming Ashes series. Sir John is a cricket obsessive, and actually also a very decent writer on the subject. His obituary of Denis Compton is well worth seeking out if that is your thing.
In fact, opposition from Party grandees, Speaker Bercow, any number of Parliamentary instruments and a hostile new European infrastructure, may be the least of Boris’s worries, or indeed Jeremey’s if he can do a New Zealand and make it into Downing Street. The next PM will have to incur the wrath of the British press corps. You may have gathered that I do rather try to avoid the TV news coverage. It tends to wind me up. But the BBC’s 10 O’clock news did creep up on me by surprise the other day. I am not sure why, there is a clue in the title, but, nonetheless, there I was, confronted by the face of pure evil. Laura Kuenssberg. Life does imitate art and Kuenssberg is Villanelle. She toyed with her last victim, the way psychopaths and cats do, before dispatching the PM, but she has the taste for it now and will do the next one quickly. Boris needs to be on notice. He may have a 275 grand a year gig to write worse rubbish than this every week in the Torygraph, and the Spectator might be in his pocket, but he cannot hide from her. Carrie may be doing a good job at tidying up and slimming down Boris, such that he is beginning to resemble a genial, 1950s style, small sub-branch bank manager, but one morning she will come downstairs and find him hanging upside down wrapped in clingfilm. Metaphorically speaking of course.
By way of a reminder, do make sure to register for the DHSC's latest webinar on continuity of supply plans in the event of no-deal Brexit. It is also a chance to put your questions to those in the know.
But on to more important things. You will have noted that my attempt to jinx the Indian and Australian cricket teams was successful and England will now play New Zealand in the final of the World Cup. Free to air on terrestrial TV too, which is a canny market development move by the people at Sky. Many of us are prevented by management from subscribing to the Sports package, but by giving us a glimpse of what our lives could be like during the Ashes, it may make us conclude that the “beg for forgiveness” route is a viable option. So, that is Sunday sorted then, although it will not be without financial pain for me personally. Demonstrating an entrepreneurial streak that certainly did not come from me, my daughter has spotted an opportunity. Our front room has been designated a VIP area with ticketed entry. There is a full hospitality package. Breakfast, lunch between innings and a post-match dinner party, all of which I will have to pay handsomely for. Despite the fact that, I suspect, I will be the one doing the cooking. Ho hum. This is the first time for 27 years that England has been in a World Cup final and it will be another 20 before the competition returns to these shores, so make the most of it. This year ignore the overpaid and overrated prima donnas in SW19, and follow what is, actually, our national game. Although even if we do win, it cannot possibly taste as sweet as destroying the Australians yesterday did. Come on England!
