Requiem For Pencilgate


tf is a pencilgate, you ask?

Read this, and maybe, probably as it happens, you’ll wish you never asked.

It’s one of those things that media events throw out – a conspiracy theory, variant gate. Fortunately, this particular one is a damp squib theory and it faded fast. We document it’s brief history here for those who may stumble upon the #pencilgate hashtag and ask the question above.

It all started during the UK Referendum on June 23rd. Some voters objected to using the pencils supplied free of charge at the polling booth and chose to cast their vote instead with their own, or in some cases borrowed, pens.

Some of these people, it transpired, told exit-pollers that they had voted to leave the EU.

The remain camp siezed this as an opportunity to accuse those voting to leave, presumably all 17,000,000 of them, of being paranoid conspiracy theorists. People seen with ballpoints were chastised openly and in one case even the police were called to investigate.

Matters weren’t helped at all when a council, East North Hants, tweeted that ink might smudge the ballot and cause the vote to be rejected as spoiled.

Dickheads. Eastnorthhants Council should be sent packing to Brussels. They’d like it there. They can make up infantile ill-considered rules on the spot and shut down schools to save money three hours a day, two days a week, and retire on a pension fatter than their heads after 21 long-ass months of loyal servitude.

And they’d get to be on the telly.

Not as often, though, as regime-change Maestro US State Department Hatchet-Man Michael McFaul, who thinks Britain’s 17,000,000 leave voters fell under the influence of some kind of international spell cast by Vladimir Putin:

Naturally Assad isn’t being let off the hook, either. In spite of all those world leaders who, after demanding Assad go, have gone themselves already into the dustbin of history. Cameron, being the latest in a long and sorry-ass line.

Such is the quality of the material one encounters on the timelines of the bremain diehards who refer to those who cast their votes in ink as conspiracy theorists.

With all these machinations, is it any wonder the cops were called?

The Police Arrive

Bizarrely, the police turned up. At least at one location we are aware of, and perhaps others. How did that go down?

— 999 emergency. Fire, ambulance, or police?
Police, quick
— Police emergency, this call is being recorded and may be used as evidence against you.
Oh thank God. Come to the polling station quick. Somebody’s using a pen
— A response unit is on it’s way, please shelter in place

The sound of approaching sirens is heard; screeching tyres; the dark foreboding drumpf, drumpf, drumpf of jackboot leather on wet concrete; the heavy hand of the law clamps firmly on a voter’s shoulder….

— Is this your pen sir?
Er, no actually officer it’s not mine. I borrowed it.
— Who from? Is the person still here?
Err, the fat lady in red over there.

— Is this your pen madam?
Yes officer.
— Please keep it to yourself in future. This could be classed as an offensive weapon.
You’re kidding?
— It’s mighter than the sword, you know

— Er before you leave sir.
Yes officer?
— I am arresting you under the public order act. Anything you say will be used against you.
What did I do?
— Fat shaming.

As if the remain campaign hadn’t been low enough, calling the police on somebody because they lent a biro to somebody else is beyond pathetic.


When the #pencilgate hashtag first appeared, we tried to inject some life into the conspiracy by spreading rumours about secret consignments of correction fluid. But it was in vain.

The #pencilgate conspiracy was predicated on a leave defeat and that was ruined when they, to everybody’s surprise and in what appears to be bombshell manner, won.

Racist Homophobes

Naturally everybody who supported leave, including even people like myself who didn’t, are being universally dismissed as racists and kremlin stooges. Whereas the reality is that everybody had their own reasons for voting the way they did.

I’ve even seen reports that a 4% berserker-fringe of the UKIP voted to stay in.

Or maybe somebody rubbed out their pencilled-in votes and changed them? Who knows.

Thanks Granny

Then there’s the old codgers, voting leave for a better Blighty. Then being set upon in their dotage for “disenfranchising” remain-leaning millenials simply by having been in the majority.

Naturally, the people peddling this line are marketers aiming to get their cash-groping hands deep into millenial wallets, lest there be any loot left in them. The old folk having been long since fleeced of any vestigial disposable income they may have once acquired.

But these very same leave-voting old fogies were young themselves once, and when they were they voted to stay in Europe. What happened to make them change their minds is not something somebody who is reaching into your stubbonly pro-EU pocket will ask you to ponder.

Full Disclosure

Personally, I’ve always supported the EU of Maastricht. But it hasn’t happened, never will, and the current set-up of half-ins, opt-outs, blind-eyes, bail-outs, and shoe-ins on a case-by-case basis is not an alternative worth maintaining.

Furthermore, if the EU is going to let Victoria Nuland push them around, then they shouldn’t be too surprised when they start hearing her word’s coming out of their own people’s mouths. You know?

So it’s requiem for pencilgate…but just like Article 50, it isn’t over until the fat lady unashamedly sings – and this time it isn’t going to be Ode to Joy. So here’s some more appropriate music. Not to mourn for the EU, but for the loss of a promising little conspiracy theory.


Ian Duncan MEP rage-blocked us after we warmly welcomed him into Britain’s burgeoning redundancy club. Which I first joined in the third year of the reign of Good Queen Margaret the Wise.

Then he perhaps unwisely announced the date of Britain’s formal application to leave without, we suspect, having received any authorisation to do so from Conserative Party Central Office.

That won’t do his future job prospects much good.

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