We have known since time immemorial that there are some disasters that cannot be averted. No plucky band of space going men is going to swoop in to blow up the asteroid on an unstoppable collision course with earth. There is no brilliant scientist in a sealed off lab cooking up the vital serum required to stem the flow of the rampaging zombie disease. Once a process, the likes for example of climate change, has been triggered there’s nothing to be done to shut the floodgates again. No matter how much one might wish it.
For good or for ill (ill – even though the scientific bit of my brain will grudgingly take it back if the evidence pans out that we are in actual fact better off out of the union – haven’t we had enough evidence by now that we’re all already in the shit as a nation, possibly even as a planet, thanks to a rash and incredibly poorly thought out decision that far too many of us didn’t make?), the Brexit hounds were loosed last June. The Lords won’t save us. Success in that particular field would be proof to me that they’re worth having around.
Even if people riot in the streets, smashing in every last piece of high street frontage they can find and smearing garish slogans everywhere and the government will not be moved. Endless petitions demanding answers can be signed and it won’t make the blindest bit of difference. I can’t help but feel that the most galling thing about it is just how smug and validated certain parties feel. If the result had caused them to simply shut up and go away I might have counted it as something of a win.
So I’m starting to hope for the asteroid. The dinosaurs didn’t know what hit them (in the cartoon version of my mind, I know it’s more likely to have been a volcanic winter variety of situation but that’s so much more grim). I am not being melodramatic. Honest.