The votes were counted. The forces of ‘slam the door – we’re full!’ had won. The man with the pint rejoiced, ‘Call it Independence Day!’ he said. Wait, wasn’t that a disaster movie? The blond one from Eton was said to speak for the people, and asked to lead. The Tories, the Labour Party, the country, the Union, all bitterly divided; the calls for cooperation shouted down. What now for the desperate people, fleeing terror? What now for the world? The nylon-haired one, who shouts from the hip, leader of the most powerful nation? If only it were a horror story.