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Our Crack Snapper

snapper.jpg Snapper
 

I’m writing this in the dog days of Brexit, mired in information overload about continuing negotiations and definitive ‘final’ votes, feeling that I've been let down by all the people that are supposed to represent me, the catchphrase of Spain's Los Indignados constantly ringing in my head: they don't represent us. I still can't believe that The Nasty Party are increasingly resembling a sweaty, argumentative drunk bloke at 4am in a casino with the dice in his hands for one last wild throw. A party increasingly happy to let the country face the prospect of no deal without any idea what may happen. After years of Tory sponsored funding cuts to vital services they're used to making the country suffer for the sake of their perverted ideology: those who can, can swim - those who can't, can drown. How did that Goat Girl lyric go (one of the best debut albums released in 2018)? "Build a bonfire, build a bonfire, throw the Tories on top". Quite. Of course it hasn’t helped that The Labour Party has been led by a Brexiteer whose future plans resemble nothing more than a note written on the back of a fag packet (stolen from David Steel’s manky script from several years ago): go back to your constituencies and prepare for power. As a Labour Party supporter (not a member – as Groucho Marx said, I don’t care to belong to any party that will have me as a member) I find these ‘plans’ doubly misplaced. One, there won’t be a General Election, and, two if there were, I hate to say it, but there’s little chance they’d win. Partly because Corbyn won’t be allowed to by the various vested establishment interests lined up against him, but also because that famed 52% will vote for the Tory Party to deliver them the Brexit they wanted first time. Why? How did that other Goat Girl lyric go, “I honestly do think that someone spiked their drinks, how can a country be so fucking thick?” But of course once you pick apart who voted for Brexit first time you know that, sure, some people were thick racists who ‘wanted their country back’ and didn’t even know what that meant. But there were also the shadowy businessmen, as there always are in times of crisis, ready to pick pockets, ready to asset strip, ready to privatise, ready to make themselves richer and everyone else poorer. Ready to make Great Britain the sick man and woman of Europe while they feather their nests and helipads in their gated communities a thousand feet in the sky. Of course, you could be reading this column later in 2019 and thinking, blimey, that Snapper bloke got his predictions well wrong: here we are, a Labour Government, still in the EU and just been voted happiest place to live in Europe. What did those re-moaners in Goat Girl ever sing about that?