So, Theresa May has finally ‘pulled the trigger’. At bloody last. Since Friday, June 24th last year – the day that will forever be in my heart as the day I woke up without an alarm at 5am, cried in the shower and got told by someone to go back to my island – us Brits living in other EU countries have had a huge raincloud hanging over our heads. I cannot tell you how often I’ve been asked if I will be allowed to stay in Germany, if I will become a German citizen, if my husband and I will end up living in different countries, if I’ll need a visa, and if the United Kingdom realises how stupid it is being. So I am probably not alone in breathing a huge sigh of relief that finally, finally, we can get on with this. The Brexit Drama has been like a badly executed relationship break-up – you both know it’s over, you’ve cried your tears and been through the inevitable pain, yet for some reason you drag things on. And on. And on. Yes, I am feeling grateful now that the divorce proceedings are at last underway. Life can start moving forward into whatever the post-Brexit aftermath may bring, whether it turns out to be the Apocalypse or something else entirely.
You can guess that as a UK expat who has taken full advantage of the opportunities the EU brings in terms of freedom to work abroad, I’m not in favour of Brexit. My postal vote strangely never appeared in Germany – even though a painfully pointless vote for the London mayoral election did (conspiracy, perhaps?) – so I was peeved that I couldn’t add my voice to the 48%ers. I’m all for democracy and I respect that things have panned out the way they have, so I won’t labour the point here – except to say that such a gargantuan decision should never have been given to the tabloid-educated and politically unaware masses. There. Said it. I await the comments from Daily Mail readers with excited anticipation.
What’s left now is to see how the Brexit Drama: Act Two will play out on the world stage and if Theresa May’s performance in the negotiations will be award-worthy. Thus far I haven’t given Ms May much thought, aside from thinking ‘Girl Power’ and ‘why the fuck are you holding hands with Donald Trump’ (although her early decision to make Boris the Buffoon the Foreign Secretary was a stroke of evil genius – like rubbing a hapless puppy’s face in the mess it’s just created.) I’m looking forward to seeing if she can prove her mettle and negotiate a good exit deal, and I’m also prepared to hate her forever if this deal doesn’t work in my favour. Your call, Theresa. You’ve been warned. But issues on migration aside, Theresa May does have some pressing problems to face in the coming weeks. Such as, where does the UK find £50bn to pay this ridiculous divorce bill? That certainly puts bailing early on your O2 phone contract into perspective, doesn’t it? I’m pretty sure we don’t have a spare £50bn just laying around in the coffers under the Bank of England so if I were Theresa, I’d start handing all the die-hard Brexiteers a 70% tax bill, and backdate it to June last year. Regrexiteers should pay an extra 5% – let’s call it a stupidity charge. In fact, if I really were Theresa May – which I’m glad I’m not by the way, because aside from not liking her haircut, her wardrobe or the way she cosied up to President Trump, I’d rather stick a needle in my own eye than deal with this mess – but if I were, I would tell the nation that the referendum decision doesn’t stand on its own and we’ve found some hidden legislation that states we must do a best of three. Like in rock, paper, scissors.
Then of course there is the small matter of Scotland. Oh, the Scots. I do love our friends in the North, beyond the wall. Others may hide behind ‘fantasy’ and infer that the Scots are Wildlings (you know nothing, George R Martin), but nonetheless, you can’t help but be fond of our brothers who wear skirts and feast happily on sheep’s stomach, and should their second referendum on independence come to pass, I’d be sorry to see them go. Nicola Sturgeon, who according to one Brexit-loving tabloid is basically Ms May with better legs, is certainly a woman with a plan, but let’s face it: much as we love a strong woman, we all know the plan will fail. If I were Theresa May, I’d probably just lock her in the Tower and be done with it, after asking her which body moisturiser she uses on those pins.
Anyway, as luck would have it – for me and the UK – I am not Theresa May. I am just one of 800,000 Brits living in an uncertain EU with an uncertain future. I’m fairly certain this won’t be all I’ve got to say on the Brexit topic as the plot unfolds, so stay tuned for more of my ramblings in future posts.
Your faithful Remoaner,