I’m feeling increasingly desperate about Brexit. Already our economy is in dire straits and every competent economic authority in the world is telling us that after Brexit it will be far worse. Their warnings are only met not with hard figures but with vacuous platitudes like ‘We can eat our cake and have it’ or ‘Go whistle’ or ‘Let the lion roar’ (it will be with pain). No big economy outside the EU is going to strike a trade deal that is not highly beneficial to them but not to us. What softies do we imagine they are? Australia is already realising that they are better off trading with the EU than with us for because of EU rules it will not be easy to do both, and many other countries think the same. The fifth biggest economy in the world, as before the referendum Norman Lamont kept reminding us? Go whistle. That was the past not the future. Third world here we come. Our helplessness to make the EU talk trade unless we give more money shows what feeble and weak negotiators we are. Recent You Gov polls have regularly shown that a majority in the UK now want to stay in Europe. Only small margins but then the original vote was only by a small margin. Yet the folly does not stop. The cancer that has gnawed at the Tory party for fifty years is now going to sicken us all. For why was the referendum called in the first place? Not in the national interest but because of David Cameron’s inability to control his party. If we are going to strike a trade deal with the EU it will be on terms that will water down the original point of Brexit so much, it would surely be better to get the full benefits and stay in. Yet the wretched blind government ploughs on regardless. I’m not a Bremoaner but a Bremortifiedshrieker. It is the social chaos that I fear so much. The xenophobia. The soaring crime rates as people lose jobs and income. The collapse of the NHS because that is the first thing Trump will want, for if American multinationals want anything it is to get their hands on western medicine, and anyway we won’t be able to afford it. Go whistle. You feel as if you’re on an out of control train racing towards the cliff edge but you can’t get off.