Also gathered near Monument was a much smaller rally of anti-EU people. And when I say anti-EU they weren't your run of the mill people who voted to leave and so have been unfairly insulted by some of the pro-EU campaigners - called racists and other horrible names that in most cases don't apply. This small rally seemed to be of wildly right wing nationalists. The sort of people you might expect to turn out at the fascist patriots rallies or line up with Pegida. You might expect. I might too - but I don't claim it as a fact.
I stood and listened to the larger rally before wandering off to sit in a cafe for a while. I listened to someone from the smaller rally too because he had a very loud voice and shouted from not far behind me. In the cafe I planned to try to read. Instead I wrote these words about the speeches of the pro-EU brigade.
And because I wanted to try it - and because I stood on a stage last night and performed a scary piece of writing - I've made a video. I've never tried this before so bear with me as I make my first attempt to learn a new skill. This was taken on my phone. Hold the phone in one hand. My notepad in the other. Perhaps one day I'll learn the skill of memorising my writing at speed. For now, there's this:
What do we want?
When do we want it?
On the city Monument steps they scream to remain.
Wave their EU flags,show their slogans of "We was right!"
We're going to fight, and fight,
and I'll fight until my dying day.
And we won the referendum really.
If you count those who wouldn't vote, didn't vote.
And those who couldn't.
It's so unfair to say we lost
Just because the other side polled more votes
In some kind of democracy.
We'll put up candidates in every council,
Change the system.
Force another vote, and another, and another,
Until we get our very own righteous result..
And we'll self-righteously stand right alongside those who,
In damning right and left will lay down
Their placards. "Labour. Party of Racists."
We'll gladly sell our souls if it means we can remain.
They bitch about the lies that were told,
While their own leaders didn't shout out truths,
And they damn the Brexiteers, the nay-sayers
With dark platitudes. As if sixteen million xenophobes
Put a cross on a piece of paper.
In a way I'm with them.
I wanted to remain too, wish the vote had gone the other way.
But. So bloody what?
I wanted a time machine for Christmas.
Wished I'd been born with a vagina.
I wanted Jeremy Corbyn to know how to connect with the masses.
And though she's dead I wanted
To tell my mum I performed on stage last night.
I wanted all kinds of things I couldn't have.
But what's done is done and the question isn't
What kind of tantrum to have.
It's what to do with the hand we're dealt.
No royal flush. It's a pair of threes.
So let's play the hand.
We're leaving. Brexit is here.
Let's cut the bitching. Refuse the slander.
Who voted in or out? Who cares now?
Let's just get on with it.
Live out our British Brexit values
Of tolerance, acceptance, and hope.
Of Welcome, charity, and our famous generosity.
Let's make this the best bloody Brexit we can.