by Christopher Gage Not long ago, to support Great Britain’s departure from the European Union remained the hoppy heady preserve of the corduroyed English fruitcake. Only the niche, and utterly mental clung to such opinions. Those trifling oddities, blimpish and better suited to reliving colonial exploits in faraway lands, were not of polite society. To be a Euroskeptic invited the label of weirdo, or, if they liked you—“eccentric.” That argument was settled. Britain, and indeed the world, owed and pinned its future not to outdated concepts such as nationhood, borders, or common culture—oddities, pined for by oddities. To be British was embarrassing, and old hat. David Cameron, our ex-prime minister, an alleged conservative, pretended himself to share this turbulence of brain. That Euroskepticism. Until he won his leadership election. Then he called such people, “fruitcakes, loonies, and closet racists.” Then he called for a European referendum. To settle the issue for generations. To smite, finally, those surely dwindling numbers of decaying old white men who still believed in that fatuous list of oddities they held so pathetically dear. Of course, the weirdos won. And ever since, the Camerons of this world have worked tirelessly to overturn our decision. Like…
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