This isn't meant to take a position on whether the UK should remain or leave (I live in Australia - it's pretty easy for me to say remain), or the merits of Brighton versus Skegness. More of a fable about political shenanigans that can run the debate off the road.
Once upon a time, there was an office outing. Some people in the office wanted to go to Brighton, and some people wanted to go to Skegness. The manager said he really doesn't like Brighton, but he'll put it to a vote. He lost and said he couldn't really organise a trip somewhere he doesn't want to go.
"Who's going to lead us to Brighton?" the office staff asked. The Skegnessers scowled across the room at the Brightonites, still angry at the tone they'd taken in the debate.
"I'll lead us to Brighton," said one of the directors, who'd originally wanted to go to Skegness, "so long as you let me decide how we get there."
The office murmured a bit, but as it sounded like a good compromise to let her lead them to Brighton they agreed.
"Right," said the director, pulling out a bullwhip and opening a cupboard. "Everyone take a pogo stick and lets get hopping down the road. No arguments at the back."
Two miles down the road, amidst a crowd of scraped knees, twisted ankles, and battered pogo sticks, one office staff member turns to the other and says "I told you going to Brighton was a bad idea."
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