How ironic. David (disappeared without trace) Cameron nobly handed over the chalice to the new PM TM, so that the party and country, could Brexit in a seemly fashion. The resignations yesterday of the Brexit and Foreign Secretary’s show that Brexiting her way, was not what they expected.

One has to wonder (and chuckle a little), thinking that the Brexit cart was put before the Brexit horse on purpose, or perhaps through pure folly. What do I mean? Well the last referendum on Europe, debated and agreed the plan before the vote. It was in October 1974 when the nation was asked to vote on whether to accept the terms of accession to the (then) European Communities, or not.

The labour party (who were in power under Harold Wilson) was split, as are the Tories now. The principle difference is that in 2016 the referendum was a broad question, which meant many things to many people.

The old adage, ‘ask a stupid question and you get a stupid answer,‘ applies.

In contrast to 1974 when there was a substantial majority in favour of joining the EC under the terms being proposed of 67%, only a negligible majority swung the referendum vote in 2016. And we predicted with foresight and now mourn with hindsight, the chaos that ensues from any majority that is hopelessly weak.

Add to this Teresa’s Mays’ Lady Macbeth like ambition to be Prime Minister and you have a cauldron containing a good mixture of hubble and bubble and toil and trouble.

Cameron probably switched off the television news and weather forecast this evening and poured himself another gin and tonic, muttering how pleased he was he resigned. He at least, could see that the chalice in the Tory Manifesto that brought him to power, was poisoned with something similar to Novichok, only more deadly.

Is Boris now going to turn his hand to political murder to fulfil his own ambition for the Tory throne? He will probably deny wanting to be PM continuously until the time is right and then announce he has changed his mind. That trick is perhaps the only thing he learned from Trumpy Towers.

In the meantime, what will happen to the United Kingdom? Will it drift towards Brexit aimlessly?

Surely it has been evident to all, that the devil has always be waiting to be roused by questions of detail?

TM has leant on the dispatch box repeatedly over the last couple of years issuing platitudes of broad intent to the party opposite. Meaningless statements are a sure way to wrong foot someone intent on confronting details…and she has used them to good effect.

Before the referendum question entered the Tory manifesto, a wise Home Secretary would have objected. ‘What will be the effect on the Good Friday agreement?’ ‘Surely we cannot risk the peace that has taken so long to achieve?’

The Trade Secretary should have asked similar pertinent questions about Tariffs and Trade deals in a post Brexit lah lah land?

Surely the Home Secretary should have asked cutting questions about the effect on immigration, post Brexit?

Surely the Employment Secretary should have asked about how skilled and unskilled labour will be recruited from abroad for much needed employment post Brexit?

Surely the Defence Secretary should have been very interested in knowing where the UK would stand with it’s allies in Europe post Brexit?

‘What,’ might have asked the Minister for Agriculture Fisheries and Food, ‘will become of farmers and fisher folk, post Brexit? Who is to pay the CAP subsidy – if anyone?’

The list could no doubt be extended with a little more research on my part, however I hope I have suggested enough to support my point. The list of ‘unintended and unforeseen’ consequences is as long as TM’s speeches to parliament have been short.

She has expected the Rt. Honourable David Davies to tackle the difficult questions for her whilst she slides down in her seat behind the despatch box. She thought she could flatter Boris Johnson into submission by giving him responsibility.

Now these stratagems have exited stage left, she is left centre stage with blood on her hands.

Out, damned spot! out, I say!—One: two: why,
then, ’tis time to do’t.—Hell is murky!—Fie, my
lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we
fear who knows it, when none can call our power to
account?—Yet who would have thought the old man ( F’king Brexit) to have had so much blood in him.

Authors parenthesis; apologies to the Bard.