Four simple little things:

• 450 million wasted on Brexit check facilities that are largely sitting unused and continue to cost the UK tax payer money

• Police forces that are basically misogynystic and racist crime gangs

• Only 350 of the 900 seats filled on the Eurostar these days

• UK businesses relocating to other countries or collapsing because they can no longer export their products or because they have trouble importing what they need

But I’m the one who tends to be seen as learning-disabled, slow, not all there, feeble-minded, senile, delusional about my education and capabilities and god knows what else by the types of folks who achieved the above.

My life is often dominated by immense anger these days. I want my goddamn life back. My European/American, largely immensely non-English and certainly pre-Portsmouth life. My rich, active, purposeful and often joyful life.

I want the full use of e-mail and text and of the full internet back. I want to have the use of telephony at my disposal again.

Here in Portsmouth, that’s considered an outrageous demand from a cranky old woman who has the audacity to refuse to be a damn doormat for English men, refuses to sit in a corner and knit hats – and what not. It’s despicable. It’s utterly despicable.