Silence is olden

I have a soft spot for Theresa May, not least because her success in gaining the Tory leadership made me £70 last year. With Leicester City enriching me by nearly £100 it was a good year for my rare bets. The latter however seem destined for an instant drop, to the chagrin of all Tinkerman-lovers; and, according at least to the btl trolls and bile-pukers of the Grauniad, Mrs May will meet a similar fate at some unspecified time during the next few years. Apparently she’ll be remembered with contempt, reviled, loathed for leading this country to destruction and anarchy, being clueless about everything to do with Brexit and politics in general. These sentiments (from men) are matchless in the depth and range of the foul, vicious, misogynistic language used, and never remotely equalled when criticising men: the sneering, threatening, bullying words to a woman, words used by what have to be sexually and socially inadequate keyboard soldiers in place of the fists and boots and head-butts of the domestic abuser or rapist.

 Whether this would be the case without the continuing aftershocks of Brexit I query, for it is the case that these hate-filled, violent, purple-faced comments come pretty well 100% from Remainers still unable or unwilling to accept that a plebiscite resulted in a wish to leave the EU. The insulte Grauniadsale du jour is to call someone a Brexiteer along with a foul-mouthed adjective, or preferably several. The Prime Minister is called such, in spittle-flecked phrases, most of the time, much of the hatred (that’s what it is) arising from her silence about Brexit.

Whether she likes it or no Mrs May has the job of steering us out of the EU, a task for which any politician you care to think of has zero experience and unknown qualifications, having suddenly been propelled to the top job and still very much finding her feet among the myriad other problems this country has to grapple with. The Graun’s btl Remainers revile her for keeping Euroshtum, for her adamant refusal to reveal anything until she has something to reveal. What they want is any proposal at all and now, in order to rush shrieking at her and tell her, between verbal pelvic thrusts, what a slag she is for coming up with it. It goes without saying that were she to come up with the complete opposite instead she’d receive exactly the same onslaught fuelled dually by hatred of powerful women and rage over defeat.

 Come March we’ll have an idea of what she’s proposing. Whatever she suggests there will be fierce debate. Nobody will be 100% satisfied. I’ve respect for her in spades, but I’m not equating that with her definitely offering me the Brexit that I want. I suspect she won’t. But I do admire hugely the political nous and good sense of this PM in keeping her cards close to her chest until she knows better what cards she has to play with. It takes resolve to do that and quietly too in the face of the hundreds of male trolls who screamingly and moronically equate silence with lack of ideas. Perhaps it takes contempt as well. I hope so. I do know that I wouldn’t take Mrs May on at poker. 

 Mind you, I wouldn’t take on the Tinkerman either.

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