There’s a stereotypical elderly Brexiter who frequents my local pub.
You know the type. In his 70s, lifelong Tory, Farage fan, little Englander. Likes to rant about how Britain needs to “take back control“, “just walk away” from the Brexit negotiations, and how we should tell Merkel and Macron to “shove off” etc etc. Every pub has at least one.
But my irritation at having to listen to his right-wing, delusional bullshit was considerably eased when he once happened to mention to me what huge Jeremy Corbyn fans his two beloved grand-daughters were.
He shook his head in genuine pain as he described how he had tried to explain to them so many times why they couldn’t – just couldn’t – even think about voting for such a “dangerous” man like Corbyn.
So you can imagine how happy I was when…
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