Black Friday. What an awful day!

Listening to the office vegetables on Brexit this morning reminded me why I never want to go to a traditional Brit foreign holiday resort, just as Brexit reminds me why I left the UK and never – ever – want to go back. Already, some of those I knew from my UK days are talking about leaving their home country – for good – as sickened by the sheer stupidity of British voters as I once was with the anal retentives who kept Thatcher in power.

For example, I had to hear the ignorant spawn of yet another nonentity white flighter who came here in the 1980’s or 1990’s sound off on why we should adopt the Australian points system to keep “them” out.

Who are “they” exactly? Whoever they might be, at least they would be preferable to such parasites and ignoramuses.

Can such wasters ever appreciate the irony of the drivel they spout? Many drifted around various countries as ex-pats before settling on the Isle of Man as the least different to a mythical UK where they were unfit for employment – or much else.

Workplace brown-nosers, social non-contributors, non-readers, passive TV watchers, social media thumb-twiddlers… Their sole contribution to any community they leech off to drink, consume junk food and abuse the different until they vomit on a Friday night, leaving some lower paid and far better educated foreigner to clear up their mess. As in Ibiza, so on Douglas prom.

If only some unintended Brexit screw-up could remove their right to stay here instead of Eastern Europeans and Filipinos. What a paradise in the Irish Sea this place could become without them.


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