A Plea

Please don’t nail my testicles to the table,

It’s’s a valuable table and I prize it.

It’s rosewood, 1820 , deep red brown with grain of sable,

And it’s English too, so please do not despise it.

Of course the Regent did admire the Napoleonic style,

So it has a graceful French look about it,

And of course you know, I too, am a mad keen Francophile,

It’s not my balls I care about, don’t doubt it. 

Inspired by this section of an article in The Spectator by Rory Sutherland:

Remainers have almost exclusively made their case on economic grounds, yet in a manner far more fanatical than the businesses they claim to defend. One of the strangest aspects of the Brexit debate is how readily people on the left adopt neo-liberal beliefs about free trade when it supports their emotional predisposition. This may explain why such people have won so few converts; after all, it doesn’t sound convincing to hear leftists suddenly profess passionate concern for global supply-chains. Theirs is an emotional fear disguised as an economic argument; a bit like saying: ‘Please don’t nail my testicles to the table, it’s a very valuable table.’

You can’t help but think: ‘That isn’t your real reason, is it? 

“The Haste of the Fool is the Slowest Thing in the World. “

The slowest thing in the world is the haste of the fool,

Who seeks to undermine that which over years

Has been held fast, because it is a good.

He rushes through his Bills and seeks to rule

A people whom he holds in deep contempt,

And cannot bear the fact he shares their race,

Dispensing with their wishes in distaste

He makes them criminal by passing acts.

Because he is a fool he moves in haste

And sees the nation through his weak, myopic lenses

A poor, distorted, wishy washy place

Where principle and moral have no force,

Revealing he has nothing understood

And ultimately cannot stay the course.

And other fools, whipped up into like frenzies,

Craving power in their ignorant greed,

Champion his folly as they school

Their minds in shallow, thin and meaningless ideas,

Believing they are radical, in contradiction

To the definition of the word, for who needs facts?

That which Orwell had predicted but thought fiction

Has come about through this crazèd, foolish speed

This ‘rational’, ‘liberal’ shallow intervention

Has sought to lay a once great nation waste. 

But a fool’s haste is the slowest thing there is

And a country knows its stories and its fate

And writes its history in terms of people,

And fools, by definition, learn too late

Their folly, viz:

Movements borne of popular dissent

Are never crushed by those who legislate. 

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