The Consequences of Brexit [part 4]

[sgtkate]

When are the Remainers finally going to admit defeat and get behind the government and their country?

 

I've been behind my government and my country on the front line. Have you?

[SkylinePhoto]

How many British would do the same in the countries that they re located to,and how many would flee back to the UK?,usually at the first sign of trouble,they are begging whichever government is in power,for planes to airlift them back 'home'

 

I dunno.

 

When the revolution comes i will stay and fight. Not flee to another country half way round the world and leave all the women and children behind.

 

Actually, i might be able to claim asylum in Australia. Instead of having to go through the whole lengthy process of getting a visa legally.

 

Why get in a queue when i can justpush in at the front.

Edited September 13, 2017 by SkylinePhoto

[L00b]

Sunderland is going to suffer badly if we don't get a favourable customs deal.

Sunderland voted for Brexit in 2016.

 

Sunderland returned Corbyn party line-following, pro-Brexit Julie Elliott (Lab) to her seat at the 2017 GE.

 

Sunderland has only itself to blame for whatever outcome Brexit has on the area, in terms of investments, jobs and other socio-economic consequences.

 

Irrespective of what the customs deal eventually is (if there one, and don't go counting your chickens yet), it will never enable as free-flowing a transit for parts and products as currently [because Northern Ireland], so Sunderland and all the other assemblers on the main UK island that are heavily reliant on JIT logistics, are already FUBAR.

 

Short of the UK's maintaining its Customs Union membership and the free and unimpeded flow of parts and products associated with it, plant owners (Japanese, French, etc.) will in all likelihood repurpose UK plants for domestic production, i.e. cancel investments (-that were planned for sustaining/growing activity in the EU single market) and trim jobs to shrink capacity down to the scale of the UK market. Until they can make the cars for, and landed in, the UK market, complete with tariffs, cheaper in Slovakia or <wherever else, including even Japan> than in the UK. That may well happen when the UK pensions balloon for their UK workers goes up beyond the financial viability level for the site (as recently see in many other ways of UK business life, e.g. BHS). Then the UK jobs will be culled and the UK plants will be mothballed. Exactly what Tata and the other foreign owners of UK steel plants did.

 

EDIT - and those pesky German car makers still aren't coming to the Leavers' rescue.

Edited September 13, 2017 by L00b

[I1L2T3]

Nigel Farage has some good Brexit News

 

 

People of the world, come and spend your money in Farage's far right theme park.

[sgtkate]

I dunno.

 

When the revolution comes i will stay and fight. Not flee to another country half way round the world and leave all the women and children behind.

 

Actually, i might be able to claim asylum in Australia. Instead of having to go through the whole lengthy process of getting a visa legally.

 

Why get in a queue when i can justpush in at the front.

 

Have you ever been in a pub when a group of drunk guys starts going berserk, drinking everyone's drinks and punching people in the face? The rest of the patrons come together, over-power and restrain the troublemakers; the police are called and they are taken away to face the music. That's World War II: everyone in the pub is on the same side and there is a clear set of bad guys ruining the 1940s for everyone else (incidentally, there's also a guy who offers to hold everyone's coats and money when the fight breaks out, and when it stops he won't give them back - that guy is Switzerland's banks).

 

Now, consider Syria. You're sitting in the pub with your family having Sunday lunch when suddenly you hear someone at the bar say they've been short changed. In response, the bar staff open fire with automatic weapons and kill sixteen people. You're horrified - in all the years you've been coming to this pub, knowing they've been short changing people, you never imagined they'd do something like this. You manage to barricade yourself behind an upturned table in the corner, and just when you think things can't get any worse, a bunch of thugs from the rough pub next door hear there's some trouble and decide to use the opportunity to take over the pub and make it as lawless as the one they've come from (where people have been brawling non-stop for the best part of a decade). There are bullets flying past your little shelter and blood and bodies litter the floor.

 

Whose side do you join? The bar staff who started the whole thing by killing the people they were supposed to serve, or the thugs from next door who want to hold you all hostage and make you join a death cult? LESSON NUMBER ONE: NOT EVERY WAR HAS A SIDE WORTH JOINING.

 

So you start your own army, right? This is an excellent idea - well done for taking the initiative! But exactly how do you start an army anyway? First, you find some like-minded people. So you turn to the guy next to you who's barricaded himself and his family under a table and ask if he has any weapons.

"I've got my car keys and a bottle opener from a Christmas cracker," he says. "The thing is, I was only planning a pub lunch with my family, I didn't realise we'd get caught up in a gun fight, otherwise I suppose I would have been training and stockpiling guns for years."

LESSON NUMBER TWO: STARTING AN ARMY IS REALLY, REALLY HARD.

 

This is tricky. Very tricky. You decide to try and phone the other pubs in the area to ask for help, but they don't know who you are, and ever since they helped a bunch of patrons in the 80s who ended up flying planes into pubs, they're pretty reluctant to help random groups they've never heard of.

 

So you just sit it out and wait for everything to blow over, right? After all, you've heard of other pub fights where the bar staff were beaten in minutes (The Sphinx & Pharaoh, the Crazy Colonel), but it gradually becomes clear that this one won't burn out so quickly. You could crawl out and grab a gun, but that leaves your family completely exposed with nobody to defend them. With every minute that passes, the situation gets more terrifying. Maybe you could chisel a pretty cool spear out of a table leg if you had a few weeks, but right now your children are screaming with terror, begging you to stop the banging and the sounds of people screaming, but you can't. There's nothing you can do.

 

Suddenly, across a sea of broken glass and empty shell cases, you see the door to the street swing open. There isn't even time to think: you grab your children, the most precious things you have in the world, and you run for the exit.

 

You stumble into the street, where a crowd has gathered to gawp at the carnage through the windows. As you get to the exit they try to push you and your children back into the pub.

"Go back where you came from!" they say. "You're one of those thugs from the rough pub and you want to bring your violence out here into the street! Shame on you for dragging your children through all that broken glass!"

 

You manage to get through the crowd to the Queen Elizabeth pub down the road, which you've heard is a really safe, family-friendly pub where the staff treat their patrons with respect. But when you get to the Queen Elizabeth, you're told by a security guard that there's nowhere to sit because there are too many people already, even though it's clear that the only reason there's nowhere to sit is that the people who own the pub haven't provided enough chairs. There are also loads of coats that have been put on chairs by older people who want to supplement their wine consumption by making youngsters buy them a drink in exchange for somewhere to sit.

Finally, with the help of some sympathetic staff, you find a chair in the corner by the toilets, and you put the kids on the chair while you lean against the wall, exhausted. People start accusing you of ruining the pub for everyone else, even though they were short of chairs long before you arrived. That's when some guy with a big sweaty face who's never been in a pub shooting, never feared for his children's lives, never even seen a gun or a hand grenade, comes up to you and asks why you're not in the other pub sorting out the massacre you've just fled from.

And that's when you finally break down and cry.

[SkylinePhoto]

Have you ever been in a pub when a group of drunk guys starts going berserk, drinking everyone's drinks and punching people in the face? The rest of the patrons come together, over-power and restrain the troublemakers; the police are called and they are taken away to face the music. That's World War II: everyone in the pub is on the same side and there is a clear set of bad guys ruining the 1940s for everyone else (incidentally, there's also a guy who offers to hold everyone's coats and money when the fight breaks out, and when it stops he won't give them back - that guy is Switzerland's banks).

 

Now, consider Syria. You're sitting in the pub with your family having Sunday lunch when suddenly you hear someone at the bar say they've been short changed. In response, the bar staff open fire with automatic weapons and kill sixteen people. You're horrified - in all the years you've been coming to this pub, knowing they've been short changing people, you never imagined they'd do something like this. You manage to barricade yourself behind an upturned table in the corner, and just when you think things can't get any worse, a bunch of thugs from the rough pub next door hear there's some trouble and decide to use the opportunity to take over the pub and make it as lawless as the one they've come from (where people have been brawling non-stop for the best part of a decade). There are bullets flying past your little shelter and blood and bodies litter the floor.

 

Whose side do you join? The bar staff who started the whole thing by killing the people they were supposed to serve, or the thugs from next door who want to hold you all hostage and make you join a death cult? LESSON NUMBER ONE: NOT EVERY WAR HAS A SIDE WORTH JOINING.

 

So you start your own army, right? This is an excellent idea - well done for taking the initiative! But exactly how do you start an army anyway? First, you find some like-minded people. So you turn to the guy next to you who's barricaded himself and his family under a table and ask if he has any weapons.

"I've got my car keys and a bottle opener from a Christmas cracker," he says. "The thing is, I was only planning a pub lunch with my family, I didn't realise we'd get caught up in a gun fight, otherwise I suppose I would have been training and stockpiling guns for years."

LESSON NUMBER TWO: STARTING AN ARMY IS REALLY, REALLY HARD.

 

This is tricky. Very tricky. You decide to try and phone the other pubs in the area to ask for help, but they don't know who you are, and ever since they helped a bunch of patrons in the 80s who ended up flying planes into pubs, they're pretty reluctant to help random groups they've never heard of.

 

So you just sit it out and wait for everything to blow over, right? After all, you've heard of other pub fights where the bar staff were beaten in minutes (The Sphinx & Pharaoh, the Crazy Colonel), but it gradually becomes clear that this one won't burn out so quickly. You could crawl out and grab a gun, but that leaves your family completely exposed with nobody to defend them. With every minute that passes, the situation gets more terrifying. Maybe you could chisel a pretty cool spear out of a table leg if you had a few weeks, but right now your children are screaming with terror, begging you to stop the banging and the sounds of people screaming, but you can't. There's nothing you can do.

 

Suddenly, across a sea of broken glass and empty shell cases, you see the door to the street swing open. There isn't even time to think: you grab your children, the most precious things you have in the world, and you run for the exit.

 

You stumble into the street, where a crowd has gathered to gawp at the carnage through the windows. As you get to the exit they try to push you and your children back into the pub.

"Go back where you came from!" they say. "You're one of those thugs from the rough pub and you want to bring your violence out here into the street! Shame on you for dragging your children through all that broken glass!"

 

You manage to get through the crowd to the Queen Elizabeth pub down the road, which you've heard is a really safe, family-friendly pub where the staff treat their patrons with respect. But when you get to the Queen Elizabeth, you're told by a security guard that there's nowhere to sit because there are too many people already, even though it's clear that the only reason there's nowhere to sit is that the people who own the pub haven't provided enough chairs. There are also loads of coats that have been put on chairs by older people who want to supplement their wine consumption by making youngsters buy them a drink in exchange for somewhere to sit.

Finally, with the help of some sympathetic staff, you find a chair in the corner by the toilets, and you put the kids on the chair while you lean against the wall, exhausted. People start accusing you of ruining the pub for everyone else, even though they were short of chairs long before you arrived. That's when some guy with a big sweaty face who's never been in a pub shooting, never feared for his children's lives, never even seen a gun or a hand grenade, comes up to you and asks why you're not in the other pub sorting out the massacre you've just fled from.

And that's when you finally break down and cry.

 

Sorry i got bored of reading this and gave up half way through.

[whiteowl]

Sorry i got bored of reading this and gave up half way through.

 

Would it have helped if it was written on the side of a bus ?

[tinfoilhat]

Have you ever been in a pub when a group of drunk guys starts going berserk, drinking everyone's drinks and punching people in the face? The rest of the patrons come together, over-power and restrain the troublemakers; the police are called and they are taken away to face the music. That's World War II: everyone in the pub is on the same side and there is a clear set of bad guys ruining the 1940s for everyone else (incidentally, there's also a guy who offers to hold everyone's coats and money when the fight breaks out, and when it stops he won't give them back - that guy is Switzerland's banks).

 

Now, consider Syria. You're sitting in the pub with your family having Sunday lunch when suddenly you hear someone at the bar say they've been short changed. In response, the bar staff open fire with automatic weapons and kill sixteen people. You're horrified - in all the years you've been coming to this pub, knowing they've been short changing people, you never imagined they'd do something like this. You manage to barricade yourself behind an upturned table in the corner, and just when you think things can't get any worse, a bunch of thugs from the rough pub next door hear there's some trouble and decide to use the opportunity to take over the pub and make it as lawless as the one they've come from (where people have been brawling non-stop for the best part of a decade). There are bullets flying past your little shelter and blood and bodies litter the floor.

 

Whose side do you join? The bar staff who started the whole thing by killing the people they were supposed to serve, or the thugs from next door who want to hold you all hostage and make you join a death cult? LESSON NUMBER ONE: NOT EVERY WAR HAS A SIDE WORTH JOINING.

 

So you start your own army, right? This is an excellent idea - well done for taking the initiative! But exactly how do you start an army anyway? First, you find some like-minded people. So you turn to the guy next to you who's barricaded himself and his family under a table and ask if he has any weapons.

"I've got my car keys and a bottle opener from a Christmas cracker," he says. "The thing is, I was only planning a pub lunch with my family, I didn't realise we'd get caught up in a gun fight, otherwise I suppose I would have been training and stockpiling guns for years."

LESSON NUMBER TWO: STARTING AN ARMY IS REALLY, REALLY HARD.

 

This is tricky. Very tricky. You decide to try and phone the other pubs in the area to ask for help, but they don't know who you are, and ever since they helped a bunch of patrons in the 80s who ended up flying planes into pubs, they're pretty reluctant to help random groups they've never heard of.

 

So you just sit it out and wait for everything to blow over, right? After all, you've heard of other pub fights where the bar staff were beaten in minutes (The Sphinx & Pharaoh, the Crazy Colonel), but it gradually becomes clear that this one won't burn out so quickly. You could crawl out and grab a gun, but that leaves your family completely exposed with nobody to defend them. With every minute that passes, the situation gets more terrifying. Maybe you could chisel a pretty cool spear out of a table leg if you had a few weeks, but right now your children are screaming with terror, begging you to stop the banging and the sounds of people screaming, but you can't. There's nothing you can do.

 

Suddenly, across a sea of broken glass and empty shell cases, you see the door to the street swing open. There isn't even time to think: you grab your children, the most precious things you have in the world, and you run for the exit.

 

You stumble into the street, where a crowd has gathered to gawp at the carnage through the windows. As you get to the exit they try to push you and your children back into the pub.

"Go back where you came from!" they say. "You're one of those thugs from the rough pub and you want to bring your violence out here into the street! Shame on you for dragging your children through all that broken glass!"

 

You manage to get through the crowd to the Queen Elizabeth pub down the road, which you've heard is a really safe, family-friendly pub where the staff treat their patrons with respect. But when you get to the Queen Elizabeth, you're told by a security guard that there's nowhere to sit because there are too many people already, even though it's clear that the only reason there's nowhere to sit is that the people who own the pub haven't provided enough chairs. There are also loads of coats that have been put on chairs by older people who want to supplement their wine consumption by making youngsters buy them a drink in exchange for somewhere to sit.

Finally, with the help of some sympathetic staff, you find a chair in the corner by the toilets, and you put the kids on the chair while you lean against the wall, exhausted. People start accusing you of ruining the pub for everyone else, even though they were short of chairs long before you arrived. That's when some guy with a big sweaty face who's never been in a pub shooting, never feared for his children's lives, never even seen a gun or a hand grenade, comes up to you and asks why you're not in the other pub sorting out the massacre you've just fled from.

And that's when you finally break down and cry.

 

Top post!!!!

 

---------- Post added 13-09-2017 at 10:16 ----------

 

Would it have helped if it was written on the side of a bus ?

 

Better post :)

[Carlinate]

Would it have helped if it was written on the side of a bus ?

 

Excellent, made me smile did that.

 

You may support the dark side but at least you have a sense of humour!

[SkylinePhoto]

Would it have helped if it was written on the side of a bus ?

 

Back of a fag packet in a nice punchy media soundbite please!