Remember when you were a teenager, and thought the world would be perfect if you had your own place, made your own rules? You would skip school, hang out with your friends, stay up late, sleep until noon. No one would tell you what to do, how to do it, or when to do it. A dream come true.
But when you actually became an adult you were in for a rude awakening because there are things like rent and electric bills and car notes and you were just squeaking by but then there were these really cute shoes you absolutely had to have or you would die and now you can’t pay your credit card bill. Just as an example. And you can’t skip work and sleep until noon because you have a job to pay for all those aforementioned amenities. And the only friends who hang out all the time are the ones who don’t have jobs and want to mooch off of you and sleep on your couch. Everyone else is at work and scraping by just like you.
Brexit. Independence. Finally, we do what we want when we want. We don’t have to follow any damn rules. It’s going to be totally awesome. Right? But then you wake up to find out that your rent just went up 30% and you’ve wiped out your savings account. And it turns out you didn’t factor in all that birthday money you used to get from your grandparents that allowed you to actually pay your shoe bill. You totally forgot about that. Also, if you’re going to sleep at night you need a mattress or something, so you might need to beg your folks to let you take your old bed from home. Maybe a card table and some chairs.
So now what? You finally got what you wanted. Aren’t you enjoying all that freedom? Or, are the economic implications dismal? Do you want to move back home now? Well you can’t. Because your parents sold the house and didn’t leave a forwarding address. They took all the furniture with them. You start to wonder if you did the right thing.
Maybe in your excitement to move out, you didn’t stop and think all these things through. Maybe your friend was so jazzed about moving out and getting an apartment together, you let her convince you that life would be perfect if you only had your own place. So you glossed over a few details.
This is where many Brits apparently find themselves. Bluff called. Consequences cemented. Story after story of working class Brits who were so pissed off about their circumstances that they just wanted change, big change, any kind of change. They didn’t really understand the implications. And now, anecdotally anyway, many of them want to move back home. Bloody hell. It’s too late.
A very small benefit actually came out of this whole fiasco. Trump was in Scotland promoting another fantastic, terrific, amazing golf resort, and decided to comment on Brexit by inserting his smaller-than-average size foot in his duck mouth on Twitter; as a result the Scots unleashed some of the most epic insults ever. It doesn’t make the whole Brexit disaster worth it, not by a long shot. Those adorable shoes are still sitting in the window rather than on your feet, and you’re sleeping on the floor cause it turns out beds are expensive. But there is this small comfort.