SOMERSET - England - JRM now has his own blog, endearingly entitled the Jacob Rees-Blogg. Do read it.
My new Internet blog because tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis.
I don’t dislike Europe. In fact, some of my closest friends own homes there. Indeed, I’ve just returned from a holiday on the continent, which was most agreeable.
There were, however, some key aspects which only served to confirm that we were absolutely right to Leave.
I’ve catalogued these oft overlooked facts below because, as anyone who went to a halfway decent school knows, ex factis jus oritur:
Exhibit A:
Le petit toilet, j’accuse!
The lavatories. This dreadful contraption proved to be hellishly awkward for Mrs Rees-Mogg, our six children, four domestics and myself to use. Without going into the unseemly details, how on earth are you meant to flush it? It’s safe to say I’ve not had as many unfortunate experiences with a loo since my first year at Eton, when I was bog-washed so frequently even my house master used to call me ‘Rees-Bog.’
It should be a source of pride that the Great British Toilet has been flushing away the competition since its conception by the ingenious Thomas Crapper (who my great, great grandfather blackballed for Whites membership due to his unfortunate association with WCs). It still remains a far more effective repository for human waste than this cruelly inefficient European device.
Exhibit B:
Even in this day and age, Europeans still insist on driving on the wrong side of the road, despite it being considerably more dangerous. I always insist our driver, Stammers, drives in the way God intended, proudly and truly on the left (the only time I’ll ever be seen anywhere near the left, as I often joke to Mrs Rees-Mogg and Nanny!). Stammers cut his teeth in tanks during the Suez Crisis, so he knows a thing or two about driving under pressure. However, even he struggles to maintain an even temper with hot-blooded Europeans hurling unintelligible abuse at family Rees-Mogg, as they hurtle towards us in their perverse direction.
As I sat in the passenger seat, working my Rosary and chastising my blubbering children for failing to hold their nerve, I was reminded that we British are not programmed to go with the continental flow; that our resistance to Europe’s extraordinarily arrogant ‘highway code’ was a handy metaphor for Brexit itself.
Exhibit C:
Just like average people, my six children, wife and I enjoy a sojourn to the beach whilst holidaying in Europe. However, since discovering their inexplicable scarcity to rent on the continent, we have taken to transporting our own bathing machine across the channel from Somerset on a specially constructed raft, thus ensuring my wife and daughter are able to join us boys for a swim.
We took no satisfaction in the green-eyed looks shot at us by other bathers, as our machine was hauled across the beach into the sea. In fact, my kind-hearted children, clad in billowing full length costumes, preferred to stay out of sight altogether to avoid provoking more envy.
Either way, the fact that these vital facilities are denied to people of less means is a source of genuine sorrow. In addition, by refusing females access to aquatic exercise and the invigorating effects of water, one is likely harming their reproductive potential. It’s inequality such as this that makes Europe the despicably backwards place it is. Shameful.
In one’s next Rees-Blogg
A long-standing acquaintance recently posted me a VHS tape of a television programme entitled “The Handmaid’s Tale”. It’s been a revelation, so I’ve decided to title my forthcoming Blogg: “Lessons from The Handmaid’s Tale”.