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.
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