Rant. Rant. Rant.

There are few words to describe how I feel at the moment. That's a silly thing to say. Obviously I'm going to have a bash at using words to say how I feel, because this is a blog, and I'm feeling so MANY things at the moment, all of them with great intensity and many of them at loggerheads with themselves. I feel tired. Washed out. Angry. Frustrated. Hurt. Terrified. I feel ashamed at my brothers in Wales for putting their trust in Boris Johnson over the people of Europe who have pumped money into their most deprived areas. Boris Johnson epitomises the type of man who they should be railing at, and yet they've given that ghastly man a permanent smile. I thought, when Johnson shuffled his way down the street, that he looked like a character Matt might have played in Little Britain. I felt ashamed that the eyes of the world were on him. I feel proud of the cyclists who blocked Boris' fancy car from leaving his street in Islington chanting "you want to come out of Europe but you can't even get out of your own street." I feel proud to live in Haringey, the fifth most pro-Europe district in the country. I feel proud that the people of York, Leeds, Manchester, Liverpool, Newcastle, Oxfordshire, Cambridge, Warwick, Leicester, Lewes and Brighton wanted to stay. Places I love. Places I can still visit without feeling angry. I am grateful to the Scots. I am angry that this ludicrous decision will mean that we no longer have a United Kingdom when the Scots say goodbye to us and switch the light out as they leave. I am grateful to the forward thinking, gracious, calm, stay campaigners for finding words of love through their pain this morning. I want to smash Nigel Farage's face in for instantly going back on his pledge to plough more money into the NHS if we exit Europe. I want to ask him if he thought the whole thing was a game. I want to shout at every single Brexit voter who has the audacity to say we should all be friends again now that "this ugly business is behind us". I want to shout even louder at the Brexit voters who voted out without expecting the vote to go that way. I want people to know that my industry could well fold in on itself as a result of this vote. I want people reading this who voted Brexit to know that I am frightened for my future. I want to know what people mean when they say they've "got Britain back." I want the woman from Barnsley who was interviewed on the news at lunchtime, the one who said she didn't know the EU had invested in her area after the pits closed down, to feel ashamed. I didn't want to be fleeced when I went into the post office this morning to get some Euros out for my trip to France tomorrow. I wanted to be able to take the kids of the National Youth Music Theatre to France with their heads held high. I wanted to show them the foreign field in Picardy where thousands of British men died to protect Europe and make them feel proud to still be part of that ancient, wonderful, forward-thinking continent. I do not want to feel like I need to apologise to every French man that I see. I want every single Brexit voter to have their passports removed. I don't want to see my European friends in tears, or receive Facebook messages from American friends saying "what the fuck?" I am ashamed to come from Northamptonshire. I don't want to hear crowing Brexiteers laughing at the concept of "bleeding heart Liberals "crying into their Prosecco." I want people to stop whinging about London and to have a bash at understanding what it feels like to live in a city where the transport is broken, where we're all living on top of one another, where the price of living is so high that people stay in most nights because they can't afford to go out, where Russian oligarchs and Chinese businessmen own beautiful houses which no one lives in. Do you think anti-immigration legislation is going to stop those bastards? Like fuck it is! Did Jo Cox die in vain? Yes. Do I give a shit about the people of Sunderland? Not any more. Do I wish that the hundreds of millions of pounds that the EU invests in the British film industry was still going to be invested in the British film industry? Of course. Do I think that this decision will have a crippling effect on musicians touring Europe? Yes. Do I wish I could turn back time? Yes. Do I blame anyone for removing all their friends on Facebook who posted racist nonsense to prove a point about Brexit? No. Have I removed anyone from Facebook in the last four weeks? Yes. Five people to be precise, all of whom offended me deeply with their views. Am I lucky not to have needed to remove any more people? Yes. Am I grateful that my family all voted to stay? Absolutely. But good will prevail. Now more than ever we need to shine every last drop of positive light into the darkest shadows. We need to tell our European friends not to be frightened. We need to shop in Polski Skleps. We need to support anyone who is suffering at the hands of xenophobes. We need to change the face of British politics, but above all else, we need to keep on loving. Love will triumph over hatred, fear, bigotry and paranoia and yesterday I learned something amazing: 16,141,240 British people agree with me. Love Is Everyone.