Winter is over in Northern Greece, the signs of summer are approaching, and I now do not have to light my pellet stove in the evening, to keep warm. But that is not the only change, because once again as an author, I am moving away from my usual murder mystery genre with another stand-alone novel, and into the realms of literary fiction. Why the change, I should explain?
Best described as a suicide pact, apparently it is only now that the penny has dropped, and the true catastrophic financial facts finally revealed. Total bollocks! These Brexiteers have known about it all along, and have tried to drive the British public towards a cliff edge, like a bunch of gormless lemmings, from day one.
All that the Brexit debacle has proved, is the utter irrelevance of the Westminster Parliament, the House of Commons is a joke, the British Government a version of the Muppet Show, and Theresa May – the charlatan prime Minister of Great Britain – is busy wrecking our country.
Powerful, rich, but decidedly paunchy, with the antics of the current Tory government in full flow – and getting up the nose of the whole of Europe – how long will it be before we talk of Little England, Ireland as a one nation state, with Wales and Scotland as federated parts of Europe.
If I could choose, my question would be, “Is the British appetite ready for a sudden influx of high-calorie torment, or a continued and moderate consumption of continental angst?”
It seems that Theresa May has worked her magic again, and turned much of the UK and Europe into simpering psychotics. By repeating her favourite mantra, like some deranged metallic speaking clock, we are daily informed that “It’s either my deal or no deal.”
Absolute bollocks, which any sane person must surely know, it takes me back to Monty Pythons Flying Circus, when – in one of their more alarming skits about a then-current TV panel game – a prizewinning contestant is asked, “What would you prefer, a kick up the arse, or a blow on the head?”
My views are not always popular, now the internet is swamped with ‘How To Books,’ mostly written by people who don’t really know, but know a lot about SEO and publicity. It almost seems that – if you don’t choose Murder Mystery or Young Adult Romance as a genre – you are a dead duck, […]
It used to be called The House of Commons, then as the EU progressed, it was renamed a Talking Shop, but anybody with two brain cells can now see how parliament has completely lost touch with reality and has become Britains very own Dream Factory.
It’s sad to see someone who was once respected, blundering around amongst the Hottentots of the European Union, and being sidelined and snubbed, but what could she expect? I’m a European, I like the EU and I can see its virtues, as well as its limitations. Brexit was never going to run and had the EU let it, it would have been the first nail in the coffin of the European Dream, and all the important political and social changes made since the WW2.