Britain’s (England’s) post-War, post-colonial state of mind. Drowning in a drop of water, trying to manage its motel, pissed off that the world around it has grown larger and more complicated, it invokes past atrocities committed on the backdrop of isolationist policies and special paths to justify its own tantrums, threatening to walk away from everything as it does so … Emulating those it loathes … Threatening to kick people out so it can get its head straight … A parody of its former self, insulting all that the war generation has achieved (these baby boomers are really something, aren’t they?) with its tie all crooked and tempers flaring, and caught short in the middle of the night, it experiences meltdown after meltdown, surrendering the keys to its own enterprise, if not its porous little head, and out the door it goes into the rainy night with no plan whatsoever.
‘You’ve forgotten your keys, Basil!’
PS – even the Greek government is laughing
Watch this space for Part 2