Before I begin I had better apologize to Her Maj who is, of course, a regular reader of these distinguished columns because she will be displeased at my ideas - ooops, there goes the ‘Ladyship’ for the ‘Memsahib’ and the Knighthood for me! However, life in this ‘septic Isle’ has become increasingly irritating recently. In fact when people ask me why I have become so grumpy I blame it all on “events, dear boy, events”!
I am going to repeat an idea I first mooted a few years ago – no doubt my archivist, ‘JK’, will find the reference once he returns from his Christmas sojourn with Barny Magroo up in ‘them thar hills’. The fact is, as my title implies, I am fed up with being ‘Great Britain’ and/or the ‘United Kingdom’ when it is now clear beyond debate that we are no long ‘Great’ and nor are we ‘United’. I gritted my teeth through the non-stop Scottish whining and whingeing which sounded like a thousand hand-held drills biting into sheet metal as they argued over whether or not to dump us English – having first squeezed as much dosh out of us as they can – not a difficult job with ‘Dim Dave’ in charge. To my surprise, they voted against it and whilst that rather depressed me at least, I thought, they can turn those bloody ‘drills’ off and give me some peace and quiet. Not a bit of it! Within a week they started up again like a thousand bagpipes playing off key – but still playing the same old tune.
Meanwhile, over in Ulster the thugs, murderers, terrorists and innocent women-killers who constitute half of the ‘government’ of that benighted province are back to their old ways and threatening mayhem if we don’t give them several zillion quid to keep them in the style to which they think they are entitled. ‘Dim Dave’ was rushed over there just before Christmas so you can tell how serious the situation was and as far as I can tell he emptied his pockets as ordered!
Nearer to home, the Taffs have followed the Jock lead by instituting a novel type of economics in which they promise to give everybody lots and lots for nothing. Of course, they actually cut spending on their belov-ed Nationalised Health Service because they knew that thousands would simply cross over to England for the treatments unavailable in Wales. They no longer ask us ‘how deep is your valley’, instead they want know ‘how deep is your pocket’, er, that’s English pockets, needless to say! I am sick to death of all those bloody Celts and as far as I am concerned they can all sod off!
Were they to do so, of course, it would instantly reduce England to the status of a minor power, a ranking which we have held but never acknowledged for the past thirty years. We would have to give up our seat on the UN (in)Security Council – hurrah! – which would assist in reminding various prime ministers that they never were, are, or ever will be Winston Churchills. Prime Ministers with no chance to “strut their hour upon the stage” of international affairs will instead have to concentrate on running England. Equally, and even more deliciously, we will be able to sack all those useless generals, admirals and air marshals. Our armed forces will be reduced to concentrating on just three vital areas, electronic warfare (in the widest sense of that phrase), missile defence and a small and highly selective cadre of Special Forces. (Oh, alright, Your Maj, yes, you can have some ‘wooden-tops’ to troop the color every year!)
In the meantime, I will require our much reduced government to concentrate on making the City of London even bigger and more prosperous, positively encouraging English commerce in every way – except by offering them subsidies! All of that, of course, will be easy-peasy when we stick two fingers up to the Brussels/Berlin axis and simply walk away! What I want is another, bigger and even better Singapore!
One final word by way of warning to all you northerners. Yes, I am prepared to put up with you so long as you do not emulate those whining ‘Scousers’ who seem to think they are somehow better than the rest of us despite their habit of crushing football supporters to death! Any moaning or whining from ‘ooop there’ and you can sod off with the Jocks!