As ever the media will do what it does. They will talk about Mrs May's speech. I do not think, though, that it matters. A more thorough appraisal would be a task best befitting another time. 2015 perhaps. For this was a speech of that time. The time before Brexit. The status quo that no longer exists.
Measured by that yardstick it was an adequate speech if not inspiring. There were clues that Mrs May still has a glimmer of conservative instinct. I do not think my fellow blogger Sam Hooper will be as forgiving but I have learned to lower my expectations and lower them again. It is too much to expect a speech befitting the age of Brexit from one who has come from the order that was so narrowly rejected last year.
Overall the feeling seems to be one of sympathy. Mrs May is held hostage to her circumstances - pinned to the wall by her treacherous and incompetent court. This was not how she ever imagined it would play out. One imagines that the only reason she does not resign is out of fear of what another would do in her place. Perhaps then she should enjoy some praise for her sense of duty to the people.
At least, that would be the case were she not unwittingly leading us down the same path. Isolated from reality, imprisoned by her unconscious incomprehension, she has fallen into the trap of living the reality painted for her by her lieutenants. If you want to know what that looks like, one needs to look away from the main hall and instead look to the fringes. Here in this nest of vipers do we see the true face of the Party.
A madness stalks the Conservative Party. One that has convinced itself that Britain can walk away from the European Union without consequence and that we are prepared for such an eventuality - so much so that they are willing this series of events to unfold.
So deeply entrenched is this belief that it has taken on a life of its own. It spreads through the party like a virus. Eventually, with so many believing it, it becomes a sacred prophecy. It then has a serious personal cost to those in the party who dare say that the Emperor has no clothes. And so it takes root, coiling around the throat of country, and now, short of a miracle, there is no escape. Now we wait for the runaway train to hit the buffers.
It would do no good to raise the alarm. It has already been sounded. It fell on deaf ears. There is nothing quite so impenetrable as a political groupthink. Gaining the favour of the court is all that matters and a little thing like reality must never be allowed to intrude. Not even the assassin's bullet can stop this now. You would have to eliminate a long line men to pull this back from the brink. The sacred prophecy has hit critical mass and has become destiny.
These people are in the grip of something very sinister. It's not at all healthy. There is no rationality there, so you cannot deal with this by reasoned argument. Every means has be tried. The arsenal is now bare. The demon is unleashed.
Over the last few days I have been revisiting some of my thoughts as to what will happen when the balloon goes up. There is no precedent for what is about to unfold. Day by day we ebb closer to events of historic magnitude where we will see the hubris of our leaders repaid in full. There will be some small satisfaction in watching these men and their ideas fall. But it will be fleeting as they take us all down with them.
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