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Make your voice heard

Cat's piece on lovely summer (below) reminds me why it can be hard to rally against the EU, but please take a minute to follow Dave Barnby's and Judith Hitchen's link to a government site and declare in no uncertain terms your support for leaving the EU.

Once you are on the site, click on the Register button at the top right and fill out a few simple lines - the name you'll write under, your email address and, if you like, your postcode. (If the government is collecting our emails, so be it.) Once you've registered, where do you go? The government with its usual high sense of organization (bless 'em) make this complicated, but it now knows you've registered, so click on the same link - here it is, scroll down to the bottom and leave your comment.

Comments (1)


I can't vote, but here is my comment, because what is happening on both sides of the Atlantic makes me wonder if Lewis Carroll didn't simply find the future:

The countries were so very small,
Expectations were quite high.
The weary people worn by war,
Their coffers all were dry.
The Doorman and the Engineer
Gave up a mutual sigh.

The many borders made them sad,
Restricting trade and fun.
The Walrus cogitated long;
Ideas came but one:
“With seven committees in seven years,
Could something good be done?”

“I hope so,” said the Engineer,
With hopeful glistening tears.
“It’s up to us to show the way
To grow beyond our fears.
We’ll guide the process carefully;
We’ll also guide our peers.”

“Euroysters, come and walk with us!”
The Doorman did implore.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk
Along the Euroshore.
We’ll only take but four of you
(And later 27 more).

Four smaller Oysters hurried up
To be among the few.
They spoke Italian, Dutch and French
And Luxembourgish too.
Never happier Oysters were
Than this sunshiny crew.

Some more Euroysters joined the group.
Their numbers grew apace.
Euroysters of all kinds began
To take up Eurospace,
And formed an ethnically diverse,
Mutli-lingual bouillebaisse.

An elder eastern Euroyster--
“Klaus” was his name it’s true--
Rebuked the giddy mollusk youth
Who rushed to join the crew.
“Beware the chefs that walk,” he said,
“You’ll end up in a stew.”

The Doorman and the Engineer
Walked on a mile or so,
Or possibly a kilometer--
It’s hard nowadays to know--
And gathered all their Euro friends
In a highly civilized row.

“The time has come,” the Doorman said,
“To talk of weighty things:
Of VAT and income tax
And Together Europe Sings;
Of Euro and Eurabia
And who is pulling whose strings;

“Of haute cuisine and driving machines
And 30-hour weeks;
Of plebiscites and parliaments
And unelected cliques;
Of what your GNP must be
Before you’re allowed to speak.

“Of why the sea is boiling hot,
And if Al Gore would know;
Of carbon footprints going wild
And melting all the snow
And using grain instead of oil
To make our autos go.

“Of cultural diversity,
And the joys of dhimmitude;
Remember, though, not to complain.
We don’t wish to be rude.
We only need some self restraint
And a pleasant attitude.

“Euroysters, now please shed your shells.
Protect yourselves no longer!
Without your shells, and free to move,
You only will be stronger!
And as for thinking for yourselves--
You needn’t any longer.”

The oysters never made a sound,
Huddled in a pot.
The spice of bureaucratic herbs
Overrode all thought.
Whatever else this new life was,
EUtopia it was not.

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