How it feels to be the only Brexiteers in the village

We are the only Brexiteers in the village. That, at least, is how it feels.

Out they come, the far left bullies, on to the streets of Westminster waving their placards and calling for the referendum result to be cancelled. And that is bad enough.

But inside the suburban Surrey homes of Middle England the enlightened liberals send out even more hostile vibes.

Admit you’re Brexit and you’ll never eat my vegan lasagne again, is the message they transmit. Personally, I’m delighted to be persona non grata at the homes of my more vegan acquaintances, even the dirty ones who eat meat secretly at weekends.

Why one should feel bullied in polite company is an anomaly in itself. Why anyone who calls themselves enlightened should make Brexit voters so scared of reprisals that they keep their mouths shut at dinner parties is an indication of what we are dealing with here.

It’s all getting perfectly ridiculous. The Brexit millions are like the silent majority in America who dare to vote Republican — repeatedly — when the so-called enlightened insist this is impossible. The elephant at every polite gathering screams: yes, but the majority voted the other way!

The problem is the so-called enlightened are so downright rude.

‘Boris Johnson, Prime Minister, ha!’ said a friend to me this week, as if that made sense. I should have said: ‘What’s your point?’ But I said: ‘Well, you know.’ Because she had that look, the look that says: ‘I’m enlightened. Agree with me or I’ll kick you to death.’

A friend of mine was evicted from someone’s Facebook page the other day. The woman in question put out a very grand status update issuing the following decree: ‘Anyone who supports Donald Trump leave my page now!’

He told me he was thinking of sending her a private message admitting he was such a person but asking if she would consider letting him stay because he enjoyed looking at the pictures she posted of her dogs.