Marmite is offering loyal fans the chance to personalise your own jar. If you type a swear word, it comes up on the label as asterisks, and triggers a profanity warning.
Exactly the same thing happens when you try using the word ‘Brexit’.
To the developer who did this: huge props. It gave me a good laugh this morning. I would still like a jar of Brexit Marmite, but I guess I might have to make my own.
Edit: looks like some swearwords have slipped through the net.
- How was Vote Leave allowed to walk more than 70 million people off a cliff without a parachute, while quietly deleting all of its campaign promises from its website?
- Why is Boris Johnson’s Telegraph column his only meaningful response to the crisis we are in?
- Is it OK that he gets paid £5,000 a week for communicating with the public via the Telegraph?
- Is it OK that the contents of his column were pure fiction anyway?
- Is this guy fit to be prime minister if he can’t even back up the promises he made in a referendum?
- How come Michael Gove is too busy playing Monopoly to show his face in public?
- Did anybody vote for Sarah Vine?
- Is it a coincidence that the Labour party is trying to force Jeremy Corbyn to resign before the Chilcott report is published, because of the threat that they will all be implicated in war crimes?
- Is it a coincidence that Portland Communications, a company that employs Alastair Campbell, has allegedly engineered ways to make Jeremy Corbyn look bad in the press?
- If the Parliamentary Labour Party is so concerned about winning an election, wouldn’t now be a really good time to be helping the people they are supposed to represent?
- Is anybody doing anything to prevent Brexit brain drain?
- Why is Nigel Farage given free reign to make us look even more idiotic than we already feel?
- Can someone ring Nicola Sturgeon?
My Brexit blog has received an overwhelming number of visits, and I’ve received lots of emails about it. (One reader pointed out that “at least we are not dead”, which is certainly a straw worth clutching at.)
Before I post again, just a few points:
- It’s just a blog.
- If you need someone to insult, plenty of politicians are fair game right now, regardless of the way you voted.
- I will henceforth refer to all male Metro journalists as ‘Angry Dads’.
- There is a certain irony in telling me to “piss off and live in the EU”.
Thanks for sharing and commenting. I hope we can find a way forward together.
If I finished last in a race, then blamed my running shoes, that would make me a sore loser.
If I finish last in a race when the other runners have a head start, that doesn’t make me a sore loser.
If someone lies to win a vote, and then backtracks on those lies as soon as they’ve won, we are not sore losers for pointing that out.
Listen: I don’t want another referendum. The referendum was an example of Machiavellian politicians manipulating the public on the back of ugly nationalism. There should have been safeguards against that. But now it’s done, it’s done. Fine.
But a referendum is only effective if everybody is informed.
The day the result was announced, people rang the Electoral Commission asking to change their vote, because Nigel Farage retracted a key promise before most voters had got out of bed. And it wasn’t the last one to be retracted. Evan Davis was spitting feathers. Vote Leave campaigners quickly realised they were not informed. We are allowed to say that maybe, just maybe, this skewed the referendum result. This does not make us sore losers.
We live in a country where the right wing press have been pumping xenophobia, racism and lies into the public psyche for decades. We are allowed to reason that maybe, just maybe, this jeopardises democracy. This does not make us sore losers.
We were given no information on the plan for Brexit (because, as we now know, there is no plan). And one side were allowed to drive a bus around the country with a huge lie painted on the side. Misinformed. Sore losers, though. Right?
Oh, I’m sure Nigel Farage would never have complained if the result was the other way around. And if he is finally gifted a seat in the House of Lords, after failing to be elected 7 times, we will all be very sore losers.
On Friday morning, I was given notice that my EU citizenship will be taken away.
The house in the sun – the one that I planned to retire to – is no longer for sale. My 2-year-old son will no longer be allowed to move freely through the EU when he grows up, as I was fortunate enough to do in my 20s.
The house that I am sitting in will lose 18% of its value. The food in my kitchen will cost 10% more. My country’s economy was 5th in the world; it is now 6th. And we have yet to see how far it will sink tomorrow.
The Scottish friends I have will now build a border between us. My friends in Ireland face a return to violence and conflict. (I saw terrorist violence in the UK when I was a child. It terrified me then, as it terrifies me now.)
Bitter? Angry? Resentful? You bet.
And do you know why this has happened?
Because two men plotted to shoehorn the Prime Minister out of office. They expected that they would lose a referendum, and gain power themselves, by stirring up a dissatisfied minority. They thought this was a brilliant plan. A gamble worth taking. Because – surely – the British public could not be so naive to believe what they said.
Unfortunately, they underestimated how successful they would be.
We have watched them lie, ignite xenophobia, spread hollow patriotism and promise money they will not have. They used desperate refugees as a weapon. They promised minuscule immigration figures that cannot be achieved without forfeiting free trade.
And let’s not forget that an MP was murdered by someone who shouted “freedom for Britain“. A sentiment that is so close to being an official slogan that it brings tears of rage to my eyes.
People tried to warn others what would happen if they won. People shared statistics from economists, world leaders and professors in EU law. And you know what the two men said?
“Don’t trust experts”.
These two idiots won the campaign they didn’t really want to win, by the smallest of margins, via a campaign based on a tissue of lies. We lost science funding. Regional funding. Cultural connections to our neighbours.
And now, people want me to be happy about it, and move on with my life.
The night before the result, all of my friends confirmed they had placed a remain vote. Including one of my best friends, an Australian immigrant. We looked at the bookies’ odds. We were cautiously optimistic. We drank beer and crossed our fingers. We, the people who voted remain, are European. Most of us have had EU citizenship from the day we were born.
People who do not care much about the EU thought the vote was about something else, because they were told nothing bad would happen. These people took away the things we cared so much about. Our right to the future we had planned. Based on a lie. Based on hate. Based on nothing.
And now, do you know why the people who ran Vote Leave are so quiet?
They didn’t want to win. They didn’t expect to. They have no plan. No safety net. No strategy. No idea of what happens tomorrow morning.
So: we have no government. The opposition party is eating itself alive, because vile opportunists have been waiting for this moment for months. No politician wants to trigger Article 50, because they will split our country into three pieces within seconds. Scotland is itching to go. Businesses are pulling out of contracts. Grown men are shouting racist comments at 10-year-olds.
Those two men knew this would happen. But they gambled on it anyway.
And now, people want me to be happy about it. And move on with my life. And “make Britain great again”.
Because we “got our country back”. Apparently.
You know what?
You got your country back. You are welcome to it. By the time this sorry story has played out, there will not be anything left of it for the rest of us.