brexapocalypse

Well I've pretty much given up on trying to do justice to Brexit in writing. The complexity of the subject is such that only by means of my forthcoming 4-hour atonal jazz opera, Brexit Strategy, can I really say everything I need to say. The principal parts will be taken by rabbits, except for Andrea Leadsom (or Anthea Lederhosen as she is known in this), who will be a spiny anteater.

Mind you there was another piece of art that has already crystallized Brexit for me, and that was a sculpture called Walk a Mile In Her Veil created by Yasmeen Sabri, a student at the Royal College of Art. Intended to 'promote tolerance and understanding', it consisted of a burka over a wire frame into which the viewer could climb in order to experience life inside this garment. It had absolutely nothing to do with Brexit until an elderly drunk woman, a few days after the referendum, attacked it shouting: 'We voted to take our country back!'

The artist was quite upset at the damage done but maybe she should have been pleased to see how a rather bland sculpture had evolved into a one-off piece of performance art with real dynamism and contemporary relevance. That the piece had no relation to the EU at all somehow only made it all the more perfect. The drunken woman was called Mikaela Haze, which doesn't sound terribly English, does it? (A bit like Farage - though shouldn't that be pronounced 'Farridge' like 'garage'?)

I have said that Brexit was a 'wake-up call' but on reflection it might turn out to be whatever the opposite of that is. It could represent the removal of that unexceptional brick that proves to have been holding the entire structure up all along. It was like the British were regarded as the sensible ones in the world, and now that they've gone and done something a little crazy it has encouraged everyone with some mad ambition they've been brooding on for years to go out and do it, whether it's slitting a vicar's throat in France or exterminating the disabled in Japan or, in the case of Donald Trump, just, well, carrying on.

Trump's ability to bypass the logic circuits of voters and appeal to the reptilian hindbrain seems likely to bear fruit, but then the Americans like to do dumb things now and then so they can make films about them later. I'm still not entirely convinced that Trump is serious though – wasn't there was a conspiracy theory that he's secretly in league with Hilary Clinton? If so, maybe the joke has taken on a life of its own, as in The Producers. Springtime for Hitler indeed.