Brexit reaches the point of no return- oh what a circus!

Brexit reaches the point of no return- oh what a circus!

Oh what a circus! What stuff and nonsense? Please tell us we're dreaming this or maybe we have woken up with a start and the fact of the matter is that we're in exactly the same place as we were two and almost three years ago. Oh what a dire predicament! How on earth did we get to this point?Somebody must have spiked our drinks with something deeply repellent. We surely deserve some kind of reprieve. This wasn't the way things were supposed to pan out for us and sooner or later we may have to hide away in a dark room where Brexit can no longer bleed our ears or verbally punish us any longer.

Yesterday was supposed to be the day when Britain officially left the European Union with no regrets, very little in the way of hesitation and few reservations. Instead, we were told to go back to the drawing board, think long and hard about what we were doing and start all over again. Nothing happened yesterday. We're still in the most embarrassing muddle Britain has ever found itself in and at this rate we should be back in the European fold in no time at all or maybe not. Oh such a calamity!

After almost three years of fierce argument, fiery confrontation and hellish uncertainty Britain finds itself back in exactly the same place as it did three years ago. It all looked so simple and practical, so black and white, easy as pie and the most painless of operations. Leave the EU and let those poor old mandarins and law makers in Brussels boil over with red faced resentment. What could be simpler and yet it wasn't as straightforward as we thought it might have been. There had to be layers of difficulty and complication. There had to be seemingly insurmountable obstacles, giant barriers of spite and recrimination, endless negotiations and discussions, a furnace of fury and fighting talk.

So here we are on the morning after the night before, the day after the decision that was supposed to have been utterly decisive and still we find ourselves in a dreadful mess. And we thought Coronation Street had been on our TV screens for ever. It was just one huge anti climax. We woke up yesterday and Britain was still in the tight grip of Brussels officialdom and still in Europe. The stifling laws and regulations that seemed to be strangling the country were showing few signs of letting go.

But  the experts and social commentators knew what we were doing and knew where this one was going - or maybe not. Hindsight is a strange thing because had we known what the outcome would be, we may have had second thoughts. There was something of the self fulfilling prophecy about yesterday's events that perhaps we should have been warned about. After all David Cameron, the former Prime Minister, who was wholly responsible for triggering Brexit in the first place, has to be accountable for his actions and forced to stand up in a court of law and explain why. You can run Mr. Cameron but you can't hide.

Sadly though the ministers and mischief makers who thought Brexit was a good idea after Cameron had gone are now sipping tequilas by a sun kissed swimming pool in the Bahamas. They must have known something we were never likely to be privy to because the truth is none of us can make head nor tail of this farce, this cabaret, this sleazy burlesque. What a farrago Nigel Farage! Now there was a politician with his finger on the pulse and a firm hand on a glass of Guinness. Farage, who once led that disreputable rabble known as UKIP, is now telling us quite unashamedly, that he knew something like this would happen but nobody was prepared to listen to him. Told you so, he might have said.

Britain has now entered completely uncharted territory. For the last week or so meaningless as opposed to be meaningful votes have been cast and indicative votes which were supposed to give us some indication have now fallen on stony ground. If only somebody had made up their minds immediately then we wouldn't be walking around with solemn expressions on our faces. Or maybe we should have given Prime Minister Theresa May prior warning. The apologies have though come far too late.

 The withdrawal agreement, which only now looks like the greasiest piece of fish and chip paper, has  been torn up in a fit of childish pique, dummies have been spat out, passions are raging, tempers frayed and this could end up in an unnecessary bar room brawl. Glasses will be smashed, remarks made in the heat of the moment and it'll all leave a bitter taste in the mouth.  Soon normal services will be resumed but you wouldn't like to put a date on it. This could be one long and agonising wait.

Suffice it to say that Brexit may be with us for quite a while whether we like it or not. On Monday Prime Minister May will spin the wheel again, pray for a miracle and wonder again if anybody will ever support her. There can only be so many votes on whatever they're supposed to be voting about and this is turning into some interminable soap opera where everybody ends up blaming each other.

It would be amusing, for a while quite possibly, to think about the one man who was utterly instrumental in all of these sorrowful differences of opinion. When Edward Heath signed up Britain for what was then referred to as the Common Market little could he have imagined that over 44 years later another Tory government would be dragging the country kicking and screaming out of it. Heath was a curious political man who naively believed that Britain's involvement in a vast European network of trading partners, could only bring with it endless financial benefits. Or so he thought.

Still here we are in 2019 as opposed to 1975 where the bureaucracies of another age can only seen in a much harsher light  today. What must have seemed very appealing to those who lived through Heath's government has now been condemned as a huge mistake. None of us knew then Britain would become tied inextricably to a tangled knot of political red tape. They were just were interfering busybodies who kept wagging a finger of reprimand every time Britain did something wrong.

So it is that across the terraced houses, flats, council estates, roads, streets, valleys and dales of the countryside, Britain sighs its inevitable annoyance and feverish exasperation. A vast majority of the population will be gnashing its teeth and holding back its frustrations because nothing has been resolved and nor is it likely to be in the foreseeable future.

Outside the House of Commons, the Union Jack flags were being brandished with visible pride and the dissenting voices were getting louder and louder. By last night those same passionate protestors were still creating a raucous racket turning up the volume to full blast. Things turned nasty and the  wildly vocal masses were storming the barricades. There were unseemly scuffles, fists raised and the first signs of mass revolt. The revolution may not be quite here yet but you could sense that things may get considerably worse before they get any better.

Where does our Prime Minister go from here? Does she keep bashing her head against the proverbial brick wall or does she tell her adversaries where exactly to go in a most ladylike fashion? Glutton for punishment she may be but for Theresa May the battle must be allowed to continue because if she does give into continuous pressure from the troublemakers then the exit door may be opened at the wrong time and place. The grin on Boris Johnson's face as he got on his bike yesterday was extremely telling. Be wary of a man with a blonde crop of hair, Theresa. He may be after your job.