With
the true conviction of a vicar’s daughter, Theresa May triggered Article 50 and
marched Britain off a cliff named Brexit. No bands played, the Queen did not
attend, no cannons fired a salute and no one knows what the hell will happen,
but the deed is done.
A
pitifully feeble Parliament gazed at its hands in its lap and allowed a fatally
flawed referendum to change the course of British history. Without so much as a
whimper, they nit-picked the choice of their Prime Minister’s leather trousers as
Great Britain became less great on their watch.

The
Queen said naught and I understand the constitutional reluctance of the
monarchy to enter the political arena, but why have a monarchy at all if it
chooses not to speak out when national policy is in such existential turmoil?
And what might this unilateral decision by the vicar’s daughter cost the
nation?
To begin with, it
might well cost the loss of both Scotland and Northern Ireland, one of which
might be a great loss and the other somewhat of a relief. Banks will flee, but
then it’s only a two-letter difference between banks that flee and those that
fleece. The next great banking failure can be solved by someone else—let the
Americans shoulder this one alone.
Air travel of course
gets complicated, as do those pesky visas between Britain and Europe. Sir
Richard Dyson will, one presumes, have a duty laid on all those clever
hand-dryers, vacuum cleaners and bladeless fans sold in Europe. Universities
(and their students) will suffer in both directions and low-wage workers may
become scarce but, what the hell, everyone in Britain these days is becoming a
low-wage worker so it ought to balance out.
Question:
Is Britain still a nuclear power if their nukes are all bottled up in Scotland
and Scotland goes independent? Ah well, someone will sort all that out. London’s
bound to be a bit less of a financial center but, on the bright side, perhaps
rents will become a tad more realistic. So many unknowns and no Donald Trump to
blame it on.
. . .
merely a vicar’s daughter.