Brexit Might Actually Win This Referendum. Here’s Why…

I’m reluctant to talk about it because I don’t want to jinx it. As I was saying to Toby Young on our podcast the other day, it feels as deliciously unlikely as going to a bar and accidentally picking up a supermodel. There she is laughing at your jokes, playing footsie with you under the table and you’re thinking: “Bloody hell! This is unreal! In just a few hours from now I could be romping naked with this vision of outrageous loveliness.” But you also know that if the Fates catch you being too cocky they’ll punish you for your hubris and do something awful, like revealing that the person you’ve actually pulled is Bruce Jenner.

Problem is, as a professional journalist, it is rather my duty to report the facts as I see them. And the facts as I see them seem to be pointing tantalisingly towards rampant sex with that supermodel. Possibly not just with one but with several, every day for the rest of our lives.

Yes, it’s still improbable – at least so far as the bookies are concerned. But whenever I nurture any doubts, all I have to do is open a newspaper or turn on the TV and see for myself just how incredibly badly the Remain campaign is screwing this one up and how well the Leave team are winning over the hearts and minds of the undecided.

What strikes me most is the difference in mood and tone: Remain sound shrill, petulant, pessimistic; Leave come across as amiable, reasonable, optimistic. And which of those sides would any open-minded person prefer to be on?

Consider last night’s referendum debate on ITV.

It pitched – for the Remain camp – SNP leader Nicola Sturgeon; Labour Shadow Business Secretary Angela Eagle; Tory Climate Change Secretary Amber Rudd against – for Leave – Labour MP Gisela Stuart; Tory MP (and Rudd’s junior minister in her Climate Change department) Andrea Leadsom; and a token blond male former Mayor of London called Boris Johnson.

The Leave team were plausible, dignified, positive, level-headed. Stuart – a German speaking with soft persuasiveness for British values and sovereignty: yay! – may well be the most effective weapon in Leave’s armoury; Leadsom marked herself with her eloquence and passion as a potential future Tory prime minister; Johnson reined in his flamboyance, played it straight and gallantly left the ladies to steal the limelight.

Read the rest at Breitbart.

Et Tu, Eddie Izzard?

Does anyone else share my dismay that comedian Eddie Izzard is thinking of standing, not just as an MP, but as a Labour MP?

In the days before Izzard, comedy was aggressively, tediously political: all you had to do in the Alternative [to] Comedy Eighties was say “Thatch” in a sneery Ben Elton voice to get a roar of smug, consensual, right-on approbation from the audience.  Izzard – and his contemporaries – changed all that. They took the politics out and put the humour back in. They made it safe for even evil fascist bastards (as they would no doubt secretly term people like me) to laugh at comedy again.

So why must they all insist on ruining it by outing themselves as card-carrying libtards? Ricky Gervais is a genius, one of the funniest people ever to walk the earth. But how, exactly does it help his reputation for fearless irreverance towards the politically correct pieties of the day when he talks about animal rights – and supports the campaign for guardsmen’s bearskins not to be made of real bear fur?

Peep Show: again, pure comedy genius. As indeed were the first few series of Mitchell and Webb. But now David Mitchell appears on Question Time and has a Observer column in which he finds new ways each week of saying “I think Tories are a bunch of chumps” and suddenly it becomes that little bit harder as a right wing person to laugh at his funny sketches about Nazis because you’re thinking: “If he had his way, he’d have people like me up against the wall and shot.”

I felt similar disappointment a few years ago when I heard Bill Bailey – dear, lovely, warm Bill Bailey with his peace-and-love long hair and his Klingon impersonations and his genial brand of gentle, surreal comedy – talking about fox hunting with such snarling hatred you could have mistaken him for a member of the ALF. (Duh, Bill: fox hunting is the BEST!)

Whatever next? Russell Brand turning up to  support a G20 protest rally? TVs “Mister Angry Geriatriac” Richard (”I don’t believe it”) Wilson revealing himself as a life-long Labour supporter? Baldrick from Blackadder turning out to be a member of Labour’s National Executive? US comedian Bill Maher turning out to a rabid libtard with not a scrap of humour in his entire DNA?

You may laugh, readers. But mark my words, stranger things have happened in the bizarre world of comedy.

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