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Outside Westminster this morning, a Brexiteer told me Ireland’s biggest problem is “You have a man who’s adopted Ireland and he’s far fonder of the EU than he is of Ireland.”
When I asked who he meant, he confirmed he meant the Taoiseach.
“He’s as Irish as I am,” I said.
When I asked who he meant, he confirmed he meant the Taoiseach.
“He’s as Irish as I am,” I said.
“No he’s not,” said an older woman, in a “don’t be silly” voice. She was carrying a Leave Means Leave banner. “Verruca? He’s Not Irish, he’s an Indian, isn’t he?”
When I asked about possible job losses at Nissan’s Sunderland plant, she said “Good riddance. I cannot stand the Japanese.”
She also told me she’s a distant cousin of David Prowse. I’m not sure what Lord Vader might make of all that.
She also told me she’s a distant cousin of David Prowse. I’m not sure what Lord Vader might make of all that.
Her colleague told me “We love Ireland. What would Cheltenham be without the Irish? What would any of us be without Guinness?
“And have the Irish woken up to the EU yet?”
About 90% of us haven’t, no, I said.
“A terrible shame,” he said.
“And have the Irish woken up to the EU yet?”
About 90% of us haven’t, no, I said.
“A terrible shame,” he said.
When I suggested customs posts along the British border in Ireland (thank you @andrewismaxwell) would become targets for terrorist attacks, they both disagreed.
“They’ve had 20 years of peace,” he said, “They won’t go back!”
“And besides, the atrocities helped clear the air.”
“They’ve had 20 years of peace,” he said, “They won’t go back!”
“And besides, the atrocities helped clear the air.”
“You want to get back to building ships again,” Dave Prowse’s cousin told me. “Harland and Wolff used to make such great ships.”
“Yeah,” says another Brexiteer, deadpan, “the Titanic was brilliant.”
“Yeah,” says another Brexiteer, deadpan, “the Titanic was brilliant.”
He then ventures his opinion on a border in Ireland: “Maybe you need a border in Island. Stop some of them things getting through.”
What things?
“You know, mate. You know.”
What things?
“You know, mate. You know.”
“Electronic borders work perfectly well,” says Dave Prowse’s cousin. “There’s all this technology now. And I’d know. I used to work in the European Space Agency, before all the politicians got involved and ruined it.”
She finishes by saying the EU is crumbling, and if you’re in a house that’s crumbling, you get out, don’t you?
Her colleague, Mark, motions at the statue of Winston Churchill. Here we go.
Her colleague, Mark, motions at the statue of Winston Churchill. Here we go.
“That gentleman told us to stand firm at a time when we were hopelessly outgunned. He stirred up our resolve, and we stood firm.
“And look at us now!”
Indeed.
“And look at us now!”
Indeed.
By way of grim post-script, I’m in a taxi on the way to O’Connell Street and not five minutes in the cab, the driver has called Leo Varadkar “a fucking Indian immigrant”. I lost the head, to be honest.
