Well folks, here I am, trying to enjoy my holiday. Or rather, about as much as one can enjoy a holiday in America under the age of 21. I have never been able to remember quite so much of the previous couple weeks in so much clarity. Oh, how I yearn for a splitting headache in the morning.
And yet - even without my precious libations - our dear leader is insisting on giving me a headache each time I wake up, just without those precious few memories from the night before. Instead, I am busy having a crisis of conscience.
This is not the kind of mumblings that normally come out of me, a Tory stalwart, and yet I am struggling to get behind the current programme. I am constantly tempted to believe the warnings of Grieve and the like of the potential risks (and there are significant ones) of a no-deal Brexit. I also simply do not believe that the EU, as much as it is in their interests, will roll over and give us a deal.
I cannot quite figure out what to think – or what to do - and I am faced with the prospect of an election just weeks away, a prospect whose certainty is ever increasing. Do I go out and campaign for the party which I have supported all of my political life, or do I go and stick my head in the sand and start singing for a whiskey and a hand weapon to do the right thing? I’m sure a great many would rather I do the latter, for a plethora of reasons.
Yet folks, as I dream of coming home to my beloved country )and enjoying the delights of pubs and bars and cheap prosecco until I can see no more), I see a frightening figure of Corbyn standing there ready to take advantage.
Mr Johnson, as much as I do not agree with you sir, I will still campaign for you. Just don’t increase the legal drinking age. Please, just one pint sir.
Toby Morrison (President, Ex-Political Officer, Ex-Publications Editor, Magdalen College) is an undergraduate in his second year of studying Politics, Philosophy, and Economics.