Amid the unabated chaos and carnage presently reverberating around the Middle East and across the continent of Europe, one item of note eclipses the rest. The resignation of Sir Ivan Rogers, the bloke who was UK ambassador to the EU. I use the term ” bloke ” deliberately in that off hand, non-deferential manner to indicate a certain sang-froid toward the entire business and existence of the EU and those who have dealings with it. After all, 30 pieces of silver doesn’t buy much these days. Symbolic rather than authentically substantive, all 28 satrapies send an ambassador to the halls of the very supra-continental power that has subsumed them. In Britain’s case not only is it now more than ever wholly superfluous ; what is the point since we’re leaving, adieu,thanks for all the whatever it is that we deluded ourselves into believing that we had obtained these past 40 odd years. Apart from nothing. Naturally the extremist and increasingly marginalised euro-zealots and seditionist misfits and cranks who still cling to the floating wreckage of their sunken megalomaniacal dream of Ein Reich,Ein Europa, shall have cause to lament the exit,stage left of that minor character part. Gone and never appreciated. Given the relative obscurity of this minor character actor’s part in The Great Farce, it is an unprecedented feat of embellishment and transcendent political hyperbole that the Remain camp has escalated this microbial occurrence into some kind of faux-significance for the rest of us. Bravo, Herr Von Klegg and the retinue of scurrying like-minded euro-vassals who have bled their insufferable pristine consciences all over the airwaves in a valiant last ditch attempt to make us feel pangs of what they might call guilt. Then again, Schadenfreude is back in full bloom on #brexit and the grapes of the People’s wrath have never tasted sweeter.