Over 20,000 people represents a pretty sizeable polling sample. And 92 percent is a significant majority of Conservative voters who will be seeking to punish their own party in the likely Euro elections by voting for one of their more strongly Eurosceptic rivals — either Nigel Farage’s Brexit Party (the only other option offered in this ad hoc poll) or UKIP.
The Conservatives are going to get creamed if and when the next Euro elections happen, of that there’s no question. Their natural constituency won’t easily forgive the party for betraying Brexit in the way that Theresa May and her Cabinet of Remainers have done.
But the bigger question is: what will happen when Conservative voters’ loyalties are tested in a general election?
It’s a very important question because on the answer depends the fate of Britain.
For the last few days I’ve been fighting a running battle on Twitter with Corbynistas over a mocking Tweet in which I made light of their Dear Leader, the Magic Grandpa.
The BBC has attacked Jacob Rees Mogg-for the alleged crime of quoting a stirring speech on Brexit by the co-leader of Germany’s AfD party. I mention this storm-in-a-teacup for two main reasons.
First, so that you can see — if you haven’t already — the truly inspirational, hard-hitting, and deadly accurate speech delivered in the Bundestag last month by Alternative für Deutschland co-leader Alice Weidel. Weidel is an interesting character: lesbian; economics graduate; spent six years working in China for the Bank of China (where she learned to speak Mandarin); fiercely critical of Angela Merkel’s immigration policy (“Donald Trump said that Merkel is insane and I absolutely agree with that”); supports German membership of the European Union but thinks Germany should withdraw from the single currency; very anti-political correctness…
Here’s a taste of her speech, which began with an attack on Angela Merkel — whom she blames for the mishandling of Brexit:
Frau Chancellor, you spoke about the uncertainty that Brexit will bring. Not that we have learned anything new. It was just the usual phrases mixed with some valerian.
[Valerian is what a lot of Germans drink in their herbal tea to help them go to sleep…]
There were those who thought that Theresa May never had it in her: that she was just too charmlessly dull, too grindingly, maddeningly tediously vanilla, too robotically ordinary to clinch the title.
And the competition was so stiff too: From Lord North, the prime minister who lost the American colonies, to Anthony Eden, the fellow responsible for our abject humiliation at Suez; from Tony Blair, the simpering perma-tanned spiv who took us into the Iraq War on a false prospectus, put thought crime on the statute books, and transformed Britain into nirvana for lefty human rights lawyers and SJW cry bullies, to Gordon Brown, the curmudgeonly loser at the helm during the last crash; not forgetting circus clown John Major and dodgy Harold Wilson and Grocer Heath, the creepy chipster who dragged us into the Common Market on yet another false prospectus; then there’s Atlee the hideously overrated Socialist who gave us our Stalinist healthcare system and Chamberlain, who thought he’d solved Hitler by waving that piece of paper… On and on the list of shame goes.
Brexiteers are much nicer people than Remainers, experts have confirmed.
We know thanks to research produced by political analyst Matthew Goodwin. On every metric, Brexiteers turn out to be kinder, more generous spirited, more tolerant and forgiving than spiteful, nasty, vengeful, bitter Remainers.
Here are the results of his research:
James Delingpole will be recording a live podcast event with Brendan O’Neill (who spoke at yesterday’s Brexit Betrayal Rally) on Sunday April 7 at 11 am. For details, see Delingpoleworld.com. To buy tickets go to Podcast Live
Today is a day that will go down in history of one of Britain’s finest hours: Brexit Day.
Well that was the plan, at any rate.
March 29th was a date which quickened the pulses of every Brexiteer. It was the one we’d marked in our diaries for all the amazing parties we planned to throw to celebrate our newfound independence from the European superstate; the moment when — to borrow the phrase of Brexiteer Dan Hannan — we finally managed to unshackle ourselves from the corpse.
That’s because under the terms voted for by parliament, March 29th was officially the date when the June 2016 referendum vote would be honoured and Britain would formally leave the European Union.
But guess what…
We’re not leaving, after all.
God knows what’s going to happen next. I certainly don’t. Anyone who pretends he does is deluded.
Now that she has said she is going, people have started to say nice things about Theresa May.
Here, doing an absolutely heroic job in the Daily Mail, is my friend Sarah Vine:
Mrs May is, of course, the daughter of a vicar — and there is something of the scriptures about her decision to make the ultimate sacrifice. It speaks of a deep sense of conviction, of a solid moral compass not often glimpsed in public life.
I certainly can’t remember a time when a political leader displayed such courage and selfless sense of duty. Not despite being a woman, but — I suspect — because of it.
And here is probably the best political commentator in the business, the Sun’s Trevor Kavanagh:
This morning I had a taste of Britain at its best when I joined about 100 Brexiteers on a leg of the ‘March to Leave’ from Sunderland in the North East of England down to London.
The march has come in for a lot of stick from spiteful Remainer types who have derided everything from the small numbers involved (just a hardcore of 50 marchers, joined each morning by about another 50 day marchers) to the apparently shocking scandal that Nigel Farage hasn’t walked the whole way and that the core marchers were charged a £50 registration fee to participate.
So I thought I’d pop along for a six-mile stretch of the 250-mile journey to show a bit of solidarity, soak up the atmosphere and to discover whether it really has been, as the Remainer propagandists have insisted, a damp squib.
One by one the last true blue Tory diehards are caving on Brexit. Even Jacob Rees-Mogg now concedes that the time has come to give up the fight and accept that Theresa May’s glitter-dipped turd of a Withdrawal Agreement is still preferable to no Brexit at all. So isn’t that a sign that we should all bow to the inevitable and accept that we’re beaten? It’s not our fault. We fought a good fight. But parliament has so rigged it that we cannot possibly win. Time to accept defeat with a grace that has been wholly lacking among our unscrupulous, shrill, devious adversaries, right?
When you’re winning a game of chess and your opponent decides to stop you by petulantly picking up the board and flinging all the pieces into the air, is that really the signal that you’ve lost? Of course it isn’t. It’s a sign that the gloves are off and that in this escalated conflict the rules of chess no longer apply.
We’ve all seen the war movies so we all know how exactly how to behave when your bedraggled, weary party of troops is retreating from the implacable, merciless enemy and your injured leg can take you no further. “Lads, it’s no good. I can’t go on,” you say, resisting all offers from your shattered comrades to carry you.
“No. I’ll only hold you up,” you insist. “Just leave me here with the Bren and a couple of grenades. You go on! I’ll take as many of the bastards with me as I can.”
The reason scenes like that resonate with us and often move us to tears of sadness mixed with admiration and pride is because most of us instinctively understand the nobility of self-sacrifice in extremis. Nobody wants to be the one who gets left behind. But when push comes to shove, some sort of atavistic impulse kicks in: that heroic willingness we have to take a hit for the team because ultimately, the survival of the herd, of our mates, of our people, of our nation must take priority over our own selfish interests.