the brexit museum

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Occasionally I read an article that, for whatever reason, needs no interpretation or enhancement, requires neither spin nor further comment. The Guardian’s Stuart Heritage wrote just such a piece this weekend where, with time running out, he proposed the building of a Brexit museum for all us remoaners. As the most seismic event in living memory it makes sense that, when your grandchildren ask why everything is so bad, you can all pop along to its open doors and show them the truth via these top-ten inventive and interactive exhibits:

  • Fast-track entry! Relive the glory of being within the EU, and the heart of Europe, by swanning in via a perfect replica of Heathrow’s EU-only arrivals lane. The queue is short and contains approximately no crying children or fainting teenagers. What’s more, people actually smile at you. Hey, remember smiling?
  • Cheap wine! Help yourself to a refreshing glass of pre-Brexit vino, that’s a full 25% cheaper than it is now.
  • The wall of passports! Passports of every imaginable colour except blue. All made in the UK, ironically.
  • A Madame-Tussauds-esque waxwork figure of David Cameron, fat and chain-smoking and lonely, hiding from the outside world in his uber-expensive shepherd’s caravan! See how long you can stand the chant of ‘Your fault, your fault, your fault’ in a nightmarish representation of the inside of his head.
  • A nice sun lounger! Hey come in, would you like a sangria with that? Of course you would! You worked hard all your life to finally enjoy a twilight-years Mediterranean retirement. It’s a shame this is the closest you’ll ever come to it now, but who am I to deny the will of 51% of the people.
  • All the bodily fluids secreted by Nigel Farage the morning after the night of the vote! Thanks to a cushion-wringing researcher, we now have every last drop of stale sweat produced by Farage as he realised exactly what he’d done during his Good Morning Britain interview.
  • Lots of pictures of international banks! Remember the financial sector? No? Here’s a visual representation, accompanied by a mournful instrumental rendition of Barbara Streisand’s The Way We Were.
  • Jeremy Corbyn’s Wondrous Realm of Deliberately Cryptic Obfuscation! A magical land where nothing is as it seems and confusion abounds.
  • Ah b’Jesus! Turn yourself upside down and relive the sensation of waking-up on the morning of 24th June 2016 whilst suspended beneath a polystyrene recreation of Ireland’s Blarney Stone. Reel in disbelief to your heart’s content.
  • All aboard! As a final treat, tour the riot-damaged and debris-strewn streets of our once great country on the Brexiteer’s lying battle bus. Raise the over-sized £350m cheque over your head and have your picture taken with the cardboard cut-out of Boris Johnson. Why not? Why not, huh?

A museum for remainers. Now, that’s taking control isn’t it?