Brexit Doesn’t Go Far Enough

Image by Jack Caramac.

We present an almost considered opinion about the EU referendum from our columnist Sir Eugene Nicks QC, KBE, Policy Advisor to the All-Portsea Conservative, Regressive and Imperial Association (established 1799).

I trust all Star & Crescent readers are as delighted as I am by the result of the Grand Patriotic Plebiscite. This was a victory for fear over love, belief over thought, orderly queues over anarchic free-for-alls and knee-jerk invective over rational debate. In short, we as a nation – and as a city – succeeded because we played to our strengths.

That being said, I’m miffed that we didn’t win by a chubbier margin. We would have done had our local MPs been a tad less wishy-washy in their campaigning. Penny Mordor tried to tell it how it is about our Ottoman brethren, but she equivocated too much, I fear. What dearest Penny should have said was that, had we stayed in the European Union of Soviet Socialist Nazis, 58 million* of those reprobates would have flown straight over here on their magic carpets and started zapping our native Portsmouthians with their Muslamic ray-guns just to steal their jobs and their unemployment benefits. Thank Peter Griffiths we avoided that pickle!

Donna Trump, our esteemed Civic-Colonial Governess, rightly averred that quitting the Common-as-Muck Market would help us defend the borders of this blue and pleasant land. However, she ought to have explained the natural next step in the Great Xenophobic Retreat from Sanity: banning absolutely everything foreign from our darling Albion. We must be super-vigilant here, for even the things we hold to be self-evidently British – well, English because who gives a flog about anywhere outside the Home Counties, let’s be honest – may not be as they seem. Fish and chips, for instance, might have its origins in France or Belgium – Griffiths have mercy – or been brought over here by refugees. Ouch.  So what you thought was the national dish is in fact treason, pure and simple.

If nothing should be let in, so nothing should be let out. Why does one need to have anything to do with the rest of the world anyway unless one plans to take it over by force? Ah, the halcyon days; I remember them well.

After the result was declared, old Trumpy wheeled out a brain-deadening cliché, something about Portsmouth roaring like a lion. What she didn’t mention is that, had we spent just an hour longer in the Infernal League of Pinko Non-Britishers, hordes of lions – many of them unskilled and unable to speak even basic English – would be sprinting towards us right now with the express aim of urinating over every single portrait photograph of Winston Churchill on this deceptive isle.

Anyway chums, we’re home and dry and have everything to look forward to. The economy is in fine fettle, our politicians know precisely what they’re doing and there definitely isn’t any racism happening as a consequence of us sodding orf out of the Big Evil Superstate of Foreign Devilry.



*This is absolutely true because I fact-checked it by skimming through today’s Daily Heil, the non-thinking bigot’s bile bible.

Image by Jack Caramac. Find more of Jack’s visual satire for S&C here.