Imagine this: you’re on a night out, you lose your friends and you’re too drunk to be allowed in the club that you’re pretty sure your friends went into.
You’ve no other option than to head into the neighbouring kebab shop and wait it out.
You’re sat there contemplating life while shaking up your chips to get an even distribution of mayo and ketchup. You've no money left, don’t really know where your friends are and you have not a clue how you’ll be getting home.
Lost, clueless and spaced.
We’ve all been there.
But has your country ever been there?
“Our country is in a fucking kebab shop right now!”
I heard this brilliant analogy at 6 in the AM on Friday the 24th June. I was at Glastonbury and awoken by the neighbouring cluster of tents who’d obviously all stayed up (or just come home) to hear the result of the referendum.
“Boris is working the till and Nigel is on the deep-fat bloody fryer!”
It was funny but equally brutal and the remaining hour of fitful sleep I managed to get was tinged with visions of doner meat and David Cameron in soiled chef whites.
The best festival in the world began in disbelief and dismay. Random people would come up to you in the field and start a conversation about the result. Being the leftiest festival going – Jeremy Corbyn was due to speak on the Sunday – everyone assumed you’d voted IN.
When James opened the festival on the other stage, the lead guitarist spoke to the crowd:
“This is dedicated to all the brilliant beautiful people in this country that voted to remain.”
“It’s with incredible sadness that we stand up here today, privileged to be in front of you, but unifiedin our sadness that our country has turned on people.
The camera cut to a lady at the front, crying while the crowd behind, from my viewpoint, were throwing their middle fingers up in the air, unified in one almighty cheer.
The band then played their penultimate song:
Now your grip's too strong
You can't catch love with a net or a gun
Gotta keep faith that your path will change
Gotta keep faith that your luck will change tomorrow
It was a powerful moment and I hope many, like I, walked away with a slightly lighter heart and growing levels of optimism.
The party at Worthy Farm continued despite the weather and for a bit, the politics of the outer realm were forgotten.
The mud managed to consume everyone's energy and the very serious possibility of ending up face first in a quagmire of wood chippings, piss and cider overtook any fears of Boris moving into No. 10.
However, my return to work on Tuesday was the slap in the face no one needed.
And after learning that 70 odd percent of my age group didn't vote, maybe a kebab shop analogy would have worked better than those signs on buses and bitchy televised debates.
In my job it’s always said that every meeting you go to, your presence has to add value and you need to take away actions to ensure your productivity is increased.
So for value purposes I am going to go back to the kebab shop analogy. Whenever I’ve been in a similar situation, I’ve always made it back home safe and sound, grateful for the temporary warm haven provided by the greasy establishment.
Essentially I believe there’s hope for this country yet and that we can indeed chill for a bit in the kebab shop before making our way back home... wherever that may be.
A new home that nurtures and bolsters us to feel more engaged and confident when we talk about politics.
A new home that encourages all it's inhabitants to not wait till a result has been reached tobe mobilised into action.
The action was the vote.
The result is now this... And it clearly aint what Boris wanted either because where the hell has he gone!?
There's a massive space on the floor that young people need to fill and the next time democracy comes knocking, we better make sure that door is flung wide open and our voices are heard.
In the words of Matty from The 1975 who also spoke out at Glastonbury: "I feel like as a young person... there's this sentiment of anti-compassion that's spread across an older generation and voted in a future that we don't even fucking want."
No more doner meat for the UK please.
Come on now, it's time to get in that Taxi.