As we are now deep into the minutiae of beginning to leave the European Union, I thought that I would track back, and view that which I wrote as the day for the Referendum drew ever nearer. I began by reviewing my own post on the trial of Thomas Mair for the murder of Jo Cox, a Labour M.P. OoL readers might remember both the murder and the trial; but I concentrated on the alleged ‘Trial’, mainly because it was unlike any other trial ever recorded in British Judicial history,
As I wrote:- The defence counsel never even asked for his mental illness, or mental health, to be brought into the judicial equation, despite proof being available that he was seeking further treatment for his mental health, but instead of being given an initial evaluation, was told to ‘come back tomorrow’. Well he did ‘come back’, but with a very different outcome. Why was nothing of his mental health and/or illnesses mentioned in mitigation? Was he so very evil that he deserved the very Judicial Book being thrown at him? Was he virtually crucified on the altar of the Remoaners, because the EU Referendum was just weeks away? Nothing was put forward in that sick man’s defence to thin, or at least dilute, the thick and censorious porridge which was the travesty of the Prosecution. No-one could argue that he was not guilty of the murder; it was virtually filmed as it happened; but have we all forgotten the basic truth that mercy should be the prerogative of princes?
I also wrote of the ‘Grey Men’ when I asked:- Do we here within the borders of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, we proud British people, choose to regain our Sovereignty, our ability to choose who sets out how we are governed, and also regain the ability to kick those politicians out who collectively displease us: or do we stay within the Federalised Super State of the European Union, with no say in how we are governed; in a Super State of unelected and unaccountable Bureaucrats: in a true minority where we never, ever win or alter anything; where we are told what to do, who to allow into our borders, and, worst of all, have to kow-tow to a bunch of arrogant Krauts who literally rule that which they so comprehensively lost in two bloody World Wars?
As the date approached, using a quotation from Shakespeare’s Ceasar for mine own ends; I also stated:- “I would quote a paragraph from Mary Ellen Synon’s latest posting, to illustrate that of which I write:-
The British people can expect the same kind of fraud if they succeed in voting to leave the EU. They will be patronised, and frightened, by government and EU insistence that they did not know what they were doing. They will be told in effect that the British voters are too dense, too uneducated about the EU, too confused, too much under the influence of what the EU denounces as ‘dangerous nationalism,’ to understand the implications of their own vote.”
The Day being upon us, as we voted in our millions, for better or indeed, for worse; I typed the words:- Where, hopefully through today’s momentous vote, the mists will finally lift to bring back within our own borders and shores; the ability to write our own laws, free of a foreign court’s ability to overrule our own: to establish who runs our Nation, and who, in due course, we can dispossess by means of an unencumbered VOTE! Let us LEAVE!
I would, at this point in this essay, admit that there now appears a surmise; a story; solely a possibility, however remote, which I wrote and posted that very day of the Referendum. I place it here, so that you might a) enjoy the very short story, b) consider the remote possibilities of this story having any basis in fact, c) and after reading the ultra-strong reactions of MANY POLITICIANS, all of whom have their own agendas; ask yourself if it is even within the bounds of reality!
Notes for a Novel
The scenes are set in the present, with two partisan sectors, with vastly differing ideas, opinions and motives: both attempting to capture the public’s minds and intentions before a vote, a referendum ballot; finally takes place to determine whether their Country stays within a large group of Nation States: or takes a decision to leave that group forever.
A tiny number of scheming but deeply cynical politicians, of varying political colours but with strongly-held views and ambitions, gather in a smoky room in a Georgian house in Lord North Street: all intent upon one thing and one thing only, to agree on a plan, a single act, which would bring public opinion strongly across towards their viewpoint.
The most cynical man in the group, a former advisor and master-spinner himself, addresses the group seated around the highly-polished table towards the conclusion of their secret debate. No notes were to be kept, all mobile phones had been switched off, batteries ejected, before the conspirators had departed their homes and offices before their separate anonymous journeys to a house which had already been ‘scrubbed’ and tested for electronic and recording devices; for this was one meeting which could not, and would never, be referred to again, once the meeting had concluded its truly terrible purpose.
The speaker tapped his pen against the exquisitely-cut and decorated crystal water jug, and the ringing tone sharpened the attentions of the listeners.
“We are agreed, gentlemen, on the proposal which has been discussed. As our plan calls for one, and only one, sacrificial ‘lamb’ for the stewpot, I will now access the names which have been placed in the bowl before us; one candidate from six of the main areas within the Kingdom. All preparations are in place, and the scapegoat ‘patsies’ already seeded and in place, with a formidable team to finally mould his mind, already tormented by his own mental instabilities, once the target has been chosen. The rest of the ‘patsies’ will receive the mental health treatment and medications which those unfortunate people should have received immediately their diagnoses were completed. The back-up evidence; of instability, of threats and of weaponry preparations, are already in place, via the Internet, so we can proceed.” As he finished his sentences, he leant forward, dipped his hand into the bowl, and brought out a single slip of paper, folded over three times. He spoke the name revealed by the paper, and the eldest of the six other men, one who had sat silently for most of the meeting whilst sat around the table; flinched, hesitated for maybe five seconds, then slowly nodded his assent to the choice.
The speaker remained standing. “Again, gentlemen, we are agreed, we do this terrible thing, because our opponents are gaining upon us in the race towards the Referendum Vote; we sacrifice this one; so that we might, by inference alone, blame this one death on our opponents: and the fools who follow us will leap upon this tragedy as if it were Manna from Above: and our Colleagues in Brussels, in all the capitals of Europe, will breathe easier because we, above all else, know that might is right!”
The chosen slip of paper, was gathered together with its five fellows, and deposited upon the flames of the wood-fuelled fire burning in the set-back fireplace. The word on the paper, shrivelling fast in the hungry flames, bore a single word; Cox.
S’funny and strange: how things pop into your mind!