As Mr T would say, I pity the Brexit fools
THERE is no denying the complexity of the relationship between Ireland and Great Britain. From our point of view, Irish feelings towards our British neighbours have been as complicated as possible for centuries – 800 years, and all that.
A mixed bag of fear, loathing, frustration, anger, confusion, more loathing, antipathy, suspicion, and more anger festered for generations, and rightly so. We were, after all, an oppressed nation for generations, the victim in a very abusive relationship. How were we supposed to feel?
Thankfully, these feelings have subsided in more recent times, both socially and politically. Reluctantly, but rather maturely, we accepted and embraced our mutual bonds. Great Britain’s sins of the past on Irish soil was like a huge monkey on our backs, but once we shook that off and looked to the future, rather than being locked in the nightmare of times past, things began to prosper on this island.
The maturity we have show in recent years in situations like the England rugby team playing in Croke Park, or the visit of Queen Elizabeth shows just how far we have come.
The relationship is still utterly complicated, but for different reasons entirely. We still revel in a sporting victory over the auld enemy, yet we consume and worship British media, entertainment and sport in our droves.
To me, the irony of all ironies will always be the alpha Irish male who claims to hate the Brits, yet is a die-hard fan of an English soccer club. He uses the word ‘ we’ when referring to the trials and tribulations of teams like Liverpool, Arsenal or Manchester United. He cried tears of joy when ‘ we’ last won the Champions League or Premier League. I am
always bewildered by this phenomenon.
Equally so is our borderline obsession with British celebrity culture. We love a good yarn about some fleeting reality TV star or a story about what a Royal princess decided to wear on a shopping trip to Harrod’s. And we consume these stories on leading British newspapers and online outlets.
But like all messed up relationships, ours is evolving all the time. And thanks to the wonderful people who are trying to set fire to their own country in the form of Brexit, we can add pity to the smorgasbord of feelings we have for our nearest and dearest neighbours.
Even on the Brexit scale of crazy, the events of the past week have been off the chart. From Jacob Rees Moog lounging in the House of Commons like he was on a sun holiday to Prime Minister Boris Johnson mumbling incoherently as he stumbled through a speech in front of new police recruits, the events of the past week have left us, and the rest of the world, scratching our heads in bewilderment. As Mr T used to say, I pity the fools! Brexit is like a US TV drama series that started off in a blaze of glory – compelling viewing that gripped the world. Except now we are into Season 5, the show’s writers have completely lost the run of the plot and have no idea how to wrap things up. Now, we are watching it just for the sake of it – we want to know how it ends, if only so we can all be put out of our misery.
In fact, Brexit is like the series ‘Lost’ except way more crazy. Will Boris and co manage to get off the island with a No Deal Brexit? Tune in next week!
So well done Brexiteers, you have managed to turn us into a nation that pities you. No more anger, fear or loathing. Just pity. We pity the good British people who realise the mess their country is in. And we pity the people who are blindly marching behind the Brexiteers as they head for the No Deal cliff.