We’re going to hell in a handcart. However turtles, tearooms and impressed editors can nonetheless elevate our spirits
Within the yr of his dying I’ve tried and didn’t observe the recommendation of my pal Alexander Chancellor, who determined that his poultry and his canine supplied an exemplary strategy to Brexit. At his home in Northamptonshire, he observed that his Jack Russell and his hens and geese lived “in blissful unawareness” of the referendum. Whereas the end result had left him depressed, they merely soldiered on. “They care not what is occurring on the planet, as long as they’ve sufficient to eat and sufficient area during which to peck and play,” he wrote within the Spectator quickly after the vote. “They don’t even care if Iceland beats England at soccer. Birds and animals simply get on with their lives as finest they will, no matter circumstances they discover themselves in. They aren’t given to moods. They don’t care whether or not they management their nation; they don’t even know what nation they’re in.”
I just like the considered these pleasant beasts clucking, barking and customarily minding their very own enterprise in Alexander’s backyard, whereas a troop of unlikely prophets – Jacob Rees-Mogg, Liam Fox, Boris Johnson, Paul Dacre, David Davis – stalk amongst them distributing leaflets that promise higher meals in additional splendid environment simply over the hill. Naturally, these fifth-rate Moseses don’t have any luck – leaflets can’t be eaten – and shortly the racket of disenchanted barking and clucking drives them again throughout the fields in direction of the chilly, ready waters of the Grand Union canal.