DO YOU remember as a child pleading with your mum for something which, in that particular moment you were desperately in need of, and her reply being “we’ll see”?
We’ll see. In maternal code, that was football’s equivalent of a pass back to the goalie from the halfway line, at which point the ball is kicked into the proverbial long grass until Junior has forgotten what was so imperative moments ago.
We’ll see. Mum’s diplomatic way of letting you think there was an earthly chance of a new Chopper bike, without the immediate inconvenience of a foot stomping temper tantrum and floods of tears.
If only the European Union Brexit negotiators had an ounce of maternal nous about them, it might be worth David Davis and his team continuing the tiresome motions of trying to get any kind of acceptable deal.
But there’s no ‘we’ll see’ from Michel Barnier and Jean Claude Juncker. It’s the same simple mantra – non, nein, no.
Davis could offer them the keys to the Bank of England and they’d find a way to turn it into an insult. Only when they have craven capitulation, when the UK is on its knees with a begging bowl – when the right punitive message has been sent to the lesser of the EU’s 27 member states – will any kind of one-sided deal be offered.
There’s no “we’ll see” about these characters, just a “wait until your father gets home!”
That’s not negotiation, it’s blackmail. And sadly, right now at least, it’s working.
The strategy of Barnier, Juncker and their cohorts is to obfuscate and delay, to heap pressure on Theresa May, to feed the fevers of Labour and the Remainers, and hope for the collapse of this government.
A question – for all the daily noise and vitriol spouted by the EU side, have you heard or read a single positive, conciliatory proposal from them? Me neither. Just continual slapping down of everything the UK offers.
May is her own worst enemy, exemplified by this week’s radio interview when she had a meltdown at the simple question about which way would she vote in another EU referendum. For all the bluster she must be desperate to be put our of her misery.
Her problem and ours, which Barnier and Juncker are gambling on, is that she can’t just walk the plank and be replaced by the committed Brexiteer Prime Minister the nation needs.
There would be a massive groundswell that the country must get a say – and the good Lord alone knows what chaos lies down that road, because a de facto second referendum would be nearly as damaging as Corbyn’s Marxist state.
If Theresa May has a scintilla of sincerity in her promise to deliver the Brexit mandate, she should sack her treacherous chancellor Phillip Hammond and empower David Davis to give notice that we are walking away if the EU doesn’t properly engage. And if that isn’t forthcoming – it wouldn’t be – she should say tatty-bye, au revoir, auf wiedersehen pet.
Auntie Beeb continues to lead the hysterical “you’ll get what for!” proclamations of no-deal doom.
It’s the exact manner in which we were warned a Leave vote would herald the end of the world as we know it on June 24, 2016.
Well, if you’re worried about sterling and the stock markets, you have every right to be.
The city hates uncertainty and the EU’s childish games stand to damage all and sundry. But it’s not their money and they don’t care.
So get on with it Theresa, get us out, and as my mum would say, “it’ll all be right in the morning”.
I LIKE the sound of the One Yorkshire idea doing the rounds and which was debated in parliament this week.
That’s not because of any daft Catalonian-type idea that Yorkshire should put up borders and make it mandatory to wear a flat cap and own a whippet.
True, Yorkshire has more inhabitants than Ireland or New Zealand, as many (with much more sense) than Scotland, and has twice the GDP of Wales. But we’re English, proud of it and we’re stronger together.
I like the idea of Yorkshire business leaders being able to influence investment strategy in our transport, housing and industrial infrastructure; of building the Yorkshire brand at home and abroad; of having an elected mayor to champion the white rose cause.
And having said that, the sooner the daft idea gets binned, the better.
Why? Because politicians would ruin it. They’re bad enough on a micro level like Kirklees, Calderdale, Bradford, Leeds and Wakefield. Give them more control over purse strings and power, and these Politically Correct jokers would find ways to waste fortunes while getting bugger all done, that would astonish you.
And besides, because the authority would be almost certainly be Labour dominated, the Tory government won’t countenance it.
GREAT news from Syria, that the evil Sally-Anne Jones – ISIS’s White Widow – has been killed by a drone strike.
There is only one possible regret, that the woman didn’t get to suffer the fear and knowledge of her impending doom. It was too clean and quick, by half.
FIRSTLY, a confession regarding the arson at the old Batley Hospital and last week’s Ed Lines (and no, of course I didn’t do it – not that kind of confession!)
You see, in legal jargon, I might not have given you ‘full disclosure’ when revealing the advance information I’d received.
Did I have a suspect’s name? Of course I did – and I’ve had more details passed on since then, right down to the numbers of houses planned for the site.
Can I share the name? Don’t be daft.
You might be forgiven for wondering how so much smoke can be in the air without Kirklees Police getting a whiff of it.
Well, to get to the embers of that situation, you’d have to start from a presumption that they actually want to know. It’s tough to hear the news when you have your fingers stuck in your ears and you’re singing nonsense at the top of your voice.
Our story about the fire last week concluded with the police appealing for information via the 101 or Crimestopper services, quoting a case number.
I don’t know why they bother. I don’t even know why we do, apart from at least trying to do our civic duty on their behalf.
Have there been any arrests? Are the police pursuing active lines of inquiry?
Maybe they are, but if so they’re not sharing it with anyone – and certainly not the local resident who was present, who saw and spoke to four suspects and noted the registration of the car they scarpered in at the sound of approaching sirens.
He told a police officer, gave his number and address – and slap my thigh and go to the foot of our stairs, but he hasn’t heard a dicky bird since. Have detectives taken a witness statement? Detailed descriptions of the eastern European men who looked like they’d been ‘working’ in the building, and the conversation he had with them?
Don’t talk daft.
This wasn’t a Grenfell Tower, no bodies to cart way. It was just a cynical business shortcut. Issue a crime reference number, leave it to the insurance company and move right along folks, nothing to see here…