A few days ago, my marvellous friend – hog-riding, literary-loving wordsmith and profanity master Paul – shared a video of Sweep, of the Sooty and Sweep Show, singing a Bay City Rollers hit, after inhaling copious amounts of helium. It was the puppet who’d taken in the gas by the way, not Paul, and it was hilarious. Straight after Paul’s share, I read another friend’s post, this time from poet Chris, who is one the best writers I know and whose opinions I value hugely, saying democracy is dead if there is a second EU referendum. He may be right, but in my opinion democracy either died a long time ago or only ever really existed for some of the populace. The news shows TMay (think eBay but for dodgy self-serving politics) flailing around with the steaming turd that Cameron dropped into her hands, because no one else had the spine to take it on. I am no TMay fan – never will be – but I see a horrible wave of misogyny in the hatred of our current PM. We saw it when Margy T joshed it. And don’t get me wrong I hated Thatcherite policy to my core. Clause 28 is an abomination and Thatcher championed thatwhile fucking over the miners. However, shooting the turd-carrier in this latest Brexit debacle is to miss the point entirely. TMay might be at the prow of this Titanic, but the wheelhouse men are quietly waiting in the background with their own, far more insidious, agendas. Us queers, women, BAME, disabled and in-poverty people will suffer the most. The elite hate us and need us in our place. The third of my fine male friends I want to mention this month is Ally, another magnificent poet with a huge trainer habit (shoes, not personal) and he was saying he’d seen a poster of JR-M in the window of a house in a very poor area. Where do you start with that? If anyone poverty-stricken thinks JR-M is the answer to the disenfranchisement of the working class then they have been lied to so much they can no longer see the wood for the trees. What a sad, sad day Brexit day will be. Not sure what to add right now.