That was Brexit: the mad energy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but lasting three and a half years | Marina Hyde
Tonight’s Parliament Square party to mark Brexit was hit by a ban on booze, live music and fireworks – the first three in a presumably infinite series of things that we now won’t be able to blame on boring Brussels bureaucrats. Right about now, you’re probably starting to think “Oh my God … what if … what if we were the bastards all along?” Crazy as it may seem on this day of national emancipation, it’s just possible that one day we might yearn to be plugged back into the matrix where it was all someone else’s fault.
Still, to the victor go the spoils. Brexit is done, except for the many big bits that aren’t. All UK humans must absorb the sledgehammer implication of the fact that a man with the mind and moral stature of Nigel Farage is far and away the most successful politician of his generation. Like Farage said last week: “Unless this government drops the ball, and I don’t think it will, you will never, ever see me again.” And like he said this week: “I look forward to a new role with Newsweek, where I shall be commenting on the battles ahead.”