LET’S NOT BE COY

HAD we but world enough, and time,

This coyness, Lady, were no crime

Thus starts one of the most beautiful poems in English language. The poet longs to make love to his mistress but she is resisting him. In the following lines he goes on to describe how they could spend their time together, he in devout adoration of every part of her body and she as the gracious recipient of that admiration.

However halfway through comes the crunch point:

But at my back I always hear

Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;

And yonder all before us lie

Deserts of vast eternity.

And he goes on to point out that in fact they don’t have a lot of time, they are mortal life is short, particularly in 16^th century, and they only have the moment in which to satisfy each other.

Why am I talking about a love poem on a political group? [I originally published this on The 48% Facebook group, go there if you support REMAIN, you will find good friends]. Because regarding brexit we are faced with the same dilemma, it would be wonderful to take eons of time to be extremely civilised to hold bake offs and carry out postcard campaigns, pester MPs and attend peaceful protests…

But you know what? Time is running out.

Our PM has said clearly that she intends to activate article 50 before 31 March 2017. That gives us barely FOUR MONTHS, 16 weeks if you prefer.

Most schools of thought seem to think that article 50 is actually irreversible, in which case folks, 16 weeks and it’s up, done, dusted.

And here we are still dillydallying. Yes, there have been two massive peaceful protests in London and several more throughout the country and their impact has been… NOTHING, absolutely bloody nothing.

I’m reminded of the old feminists saw, “good girls come… Nowhere”, and this is very much our dilemma. We are civilised, educated, peaceful and law-abiding, and our opponents use every one of those traits against us. In fact, they deride us for them, calling us lily-livered or champagne socialists…

It’s time to get moving. Now or never. Do or dare.

Okay so we’re not into violence were not street thugs but fucks sake let’s do something… Something lawful but outrageous and scandalous that will get us noticed. Or they will bury us, for at least a few decades.

The grave 's a fine and private place,

But none, I think, do there embrace.

And think about it… In a few years’ time, when our kids, or our nephews and nieces, or grandchildren ask us “what did you do about brexit?” What will we say, I wrote a few postcards? Sounds a bit lame.

Let us roll all our strength and all

Our sweetness up into one ball,

And tear our pleasures with rough strife

Thorough the iron gates of life:

Thus, though we cannot make our sun

Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Let’s give the bastards a run for their money.

Ideas please…