But hell hath no fury, as a Brexiteer scorned. And with pro-EU “remainers” accused of “hijacking” the Proms — an eight-week summer festival of classical music concerts organized and broadcast by the BBC — musicians and campaigners supporting the EU Flags Team behind the action have hit back at the Brexiteer backlash.

Campaign organizer Paulo Tirago said that, on the contrary, they were “outraged” at Brexiteers for “hijacking the media with their negative diatribe, diluting the underlying message of the campaign.” Campaign coordinator Katy Roberts also said it was a clear case of “Brexiteers in the media hijacking the message of the campaign.”

The Proms became a target for campaigners who said freedom of movement in the European Union is crucial to orchestras and musicians, and that the impact of Brexit was pertinent to this. Lengthy and complex visa applications and border controls threaten livelihoods, they said. Young musicians will be bereft of the opportunity to learn. Standards in musicianship were under the threat of dwindling without the injection of such creative energy. The music industry, with its musicians, songwriters and composers, worth £1.6 billion ($1.99 billion) to the UK, will consequently feel threatened by the impact.

But this was not just in the case of classical music but in every genre. Other artists, including Fat Boy Slim, A Guy Called Gerald and Horse Meat Disco, have also expressed concern at the impact of Brexit. These acts performed for the so-called Stop Brexit Sound System during London’s 1-million-strong People’s Vote demonstration in March.

“There’s a lot at stake. Plus we didn’t want it becoming a jingoistic celebration of Brexit in the wake of the referendum,” added Tirago.

Flying the Flag

The EU Flags Team began distributing flags at the Proms in the wake of the Brexit referendum of June 2016. The campaign grew exponentially from just 2,600 flags in 2016 to 10,000 in 2017 and 20,000 in 2018. In London this year, 23,000 EU flags were handed out in Hyde Park and at the entrance of the Royal Albert Hall, where a flash-mob orchestra of classical musicians played EU-themed popular songs, such as “Thank EU for the Music” and “Ode to Joy.”

“It was about musicians supporting musicians to make the point to a wider audience,” added Tirago.” But efforts of the campaign and such underlying intentions led to accusations of hijacking the Proms. Up and down the land, news editors smacked their lips at the pending saga that the action promised to bring. It was a case of Punch and Judy live and direct. Except the only voices captured by much of the British mainstream media was that of the Brexiteers bemoaning the audacity.

But the fizz had gone before the week was even done. No one was hijacked and no Brexiteers were injured in the execution of this campaign. But what had been hijacked, according to one campaigner, “was our democracy, our British sense of humor, our decency, our empathy and our open and tolerant society.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the fence, Brexiteers were offended by the so-called “takeover.” One Twitter user : “Pushing the EU flag on everyone on the way in, it was an EU rally. Shameful.” Another : “It’s just a pity @bbc decided to politicise it by having so many identical EU Forth Reich flags handed out to prommers.” 

So the BBC, as it appears, was also on the receiving end of criticism. But campaigners have hit back. Tirago was one of the first to speak out: “These are unfair accusations of bias leveled at the BBC. What could they do? Not film any member of the audience at all? There were thousands of people waving EU flags, it was not something camera operators could physically avoid.”

While campaigners handed out EU flags, inside the Royal Albert Hall musicians preparing to perform were conscious of the action taking place outside. In a show of emotion, one violinist emerged to thank in person the campaigners and to tell them that performing musicians appreciated their support.

As the flash-mob orchestra played “Ode to Joy” once again, the performance was observed by another spectator. Sakari Oramo, the Finnish chief conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra, was spotted by Arrigo. “I explained the reasons behind what we were doing. He completely agreed and said he would pass on our best wishes to musicians performing at the Proms.” 

One orchestral pianist who did not want to be named said musicians had several “important questions” for British Prime Minister Boris Johnson regarding the consequences of living in a no-deal Brexit world.

Questions were raised about the criteria for the issuance of a work permit, including the process cost and time this will take to generate. They asked whether separate permits are required for every EU country an artist is scheduled to tour in; if reentries are allowed or whole visa applications will need to restart; about the number of days an artist will be allowed to work in an EU country before a new permit is required or if there will be a cap on the number of days a musician can work in the EU; and whether this will be counted as days spent in the country or as days when performances take place.

Differing Opinions

Not all Brexiteers awaiting to enter the Proms agreed with the message behind the campaign. Ruth Smith, a Christian science practitioner, called it a “form of propaganda,” while other Brexiteers such as Fiona and John Truswell, despite their differing opinion, said they supported freedom of speech.

The campaign has led to unavoidable dialogue. As thousands milled about waiting to enter the venue, Brexiteers and “remainers” bantered. Campaigner Rhiannon Taylor spoke of an “engaging conversation” with a Brexiteer who said he “didn’t realize how Brexit could affect his brother’s music career.” She added: “He literally said, ‘My God, what have I done?’ And [he] took an EU flag.”  

As one Brexiteer accepted an EU flag, another “remainer” refused one. Donning a Union Jack turban, risk analyst Jaz Sidhu said he “refused” a flag because “the UK needs to stay together and, of course, it needs to stay in the EU as well.”

But the flags “were not forced onto anyone who didn’t want one,” according to campaigner Aratxu Blanco. This, she added, also included Prime Minister Johnson’s brother, Jo Johnson. Blanco, a gutsy Spanish campaigner from Bilbao who has lived in the UK for 29 years, was seemingly far from shy about making her approach. “He didn’t take a flag. He just looked visibly shocked by the fact I had asked if he would like one.”

Outside the Royal Albert Hall, security guards warned attendees to remove their “Bollocks to Brexit” badges before they joined the line to enter the venue. Inside, guards were also on full alert after a scuffle that ensued when they intercepted activists with a “Brexit Now” banner.

Polarization

Brexit has polarized UK society more so than ever. If there is a litmus test to prove it, then the Proms was the place to witness it. The event became a global stage for disclosing the true depth of division seemingly caused in the UK by Brexit to date.

The plan for EU campaigners was to “promote diversity,” though. There was red, blue and probably purple too. There was also shock, horror, disbelief, anger, amusement, wonder, elation and awe.

Brexit had become the proverbial big elephant in the room. And no one could get away from the conversation, as it politely sat there waiting for someone to make small-talk at the very least. But this was no time to blow one’s own trumpet. The response was viciously engaging enough. It was definitely diverse and it had the dynamics of a very British affair.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect 51�Թ�’s editorial policy.

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Niles is donning his trademark, wide-brimmed, pointy straw hat. A tall, quietly spoken man, he seems like a different character to the angry community orator who has confronted local council decision-makers at public meetings over their dealings with a traumatized community post-Grenfell.

On numerous occasions, he has spoken out on the behalf of bereaved Grenfell community members either waiting for justice to prevail or to be rehoused, or both. No arrests, no convictions, no punishment, he tells me, until the pending conclusions of an excruciatingly slow-running public inquiry have been made.

But, allegedly, blunders by the local council continue to be made even in the aftermath of the fire. According to a by Inside Housing, a block of apartments chosen by the authority to rehouse Grenfell survivors was found to have “high fire risks.”

“Grenfell is never going away,” Niles tells me. He pauses mid-conversation at various intervals to say hello or talk to people who stop to ask about the progress of carnival preparations. At Bay 56, locals have been busy making Grenfell-themed banners, artwork, flyers and posters, positioning them in prime locations across the area for carnival crowds to see.

Over the last 26 months, this occupied space, born from the foundations of a catastrophic tragedy that devastated a community, has metamorphosed into a vibrant “healing” hub of cultural activities for a community spanning toddlers to 80-year-old pensioners.

Niles says the community aims to keep hold of Bay 56 as a space for people to bring their children and elders. “It represents healing and reparations of the people. It represents the phoenix rising from the ashes.”

A Symbol of Community

Hundreds of people, it seems, have been regularly coming here for support and healing since the Grenfell Tower fire. This includes 15-year-old model and artist Malachi Baptise who teaches creative writing at Bay 56, runs art classes and practices Capoeira. “It’s been positive and healing for people of all ages,” he tells me.

Bay 56 is a “powerful symbol of community,” a man mentions. Malachi’s mother Karen adds: “The support network is simply incredible. Teenagers get good grounding and mentoring. I’ve seen them practice their creative skills and go out and get jobs. There’s a shoulder to cry on if you’re feeling down. What Niles has provided, you can’t put a price on it.”

Niles tells me the space is symbolic during carnival for various reasons. “Historically, it will always be connected to Grenfell because of the energy that came out of that initial period of direct community response in the face of state and local authority failure to deal with the situation.

“We weren’t waiting for them to respond. And those of us who knew it and felt it had to get to work straight away and do whatever we could do that was within our power.”

A spokesperson for the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea (RBKC) said: “It isn’t factual to say the council was not there — 340 members of staff were mobilized and supported on rehousing, booking hotels for people and taking donations at the town hall.

“We have already said that elements of our response were not good enough, and we have reviewed this so that we can provide better support in an emergency situation.”

Bay 56 is also symbolic of the community’s ongoing battle with the Westway Trust, an organization seen to “operate like a property developer” after it took control of administering 23 acres of land allocated for community use after a dual carriage was driven through the heart of the area in 1971, demolishing homes, destroying streets and creating high-level noise and pollution.

Niles says Bay 56 is a tiny part of that land which the community has managed to reclaim. He adds that it was thanks to “community strength” in 2015 that Westway Trust plans to convert part of the area into a shopping center were also shelved after getting “blocked” by campaigners.

“Apart from where we are now, we have managed to reclaim zero land. It’s because we occupied it after Grenfell. That’s the only reason Bay 56 exists.”

72 Seconds for Grenfell

Despite the air of excitement surrounding carnival in the area, one thing is certain: Things will never be the same again for this community. While there’s a friendly atmosphere outside the coffee shop, people are on high alert and unsurprisingly sensitive, particularly to news about another fire on Saturday morning at a high-rise block right next to Grenfell Tower.

Carnival is a poignant time to project the “message of injustice” felt by the community since the fire, Niles tells me. “This is the one time of year when the highest volume of people come into the area, so we have to keep the tragedy of Grenfell in the collective conscience.

“We’ll be making sure we all observe the 72 seconds of silence for the people of Grenfell. Obviously, it’s a very difficult thing in the midst of the mayhem. It doesn’t work at every spot, but it works enough for it to be significant, noticed and recognized.

“The main thing is to keep it on the table. So yes, people come to rave and party at carnival, but there are also real issues going on in this area they need to be aware of when they’re here.”

Thousands observed the silence on Sunday afternoon after sound systems were switched off and were preparing to do so at 3 pm on Monday as well.

“Little Africa”

Niles says that the carnival itself is born from the “protest movement against institutional racism and police brutality,” but that the “colonialist mindset” of authorities during that time continues to exist even today within the parameters of the RBKC council.

“They called our area “little Africa” after , he adds, “this is what we’re up against, so when people come to carnival, Grenfell is something that no one here can really ever get away from. We’ve got a history of struggle in this area and it’s important that people who come here understand this.”

We take a walk back over to Acklam Village where I had wandered in to look for Niles an hour or so earlier. We climb through the unofficial side entrance into the Bay 56 where local artists are busy spraying graffiti art over the front doors of the space.

Large, vibrant murals adorn the walls and several paintings with emblems of the green Grenfell heart and messages of community are rolled up, ready to be rigged to the space. Several young people hang around bantering with the adults as Niles and other locals residents continue organizing the space for the carnival crowds. He plans on creating a “peaceful” environment at Bay 56 during carnival by allowing entrance to a limited number of people.

Optix Hamilton, a filmmaker and founder of a housing and social action group, Access to Basic Provisions, says the space “brings everyone together and will do even more so during carnival.”

He adds: “Carnival is an important time for the local community. We’ve got a history of fighting injustice. We’ve experienced the extreme brunt of those issues. So when people come here, it’s crucial to convey that understanding because what’s happened here represents a microcosm of the issues currently facing  this country.”

Later on Saturday night, a high-rise block neighboring Grenfell Tower was illuminated bright green by community action group Green for Grenfell. It’s an iconic grade II listed building that also experienced a fire in April 2017 after its 27th floor went up in flames and 200 people were evacuated. It was lit up again on Sunday night and will be again on Monday too.

Things will never be the same here. But there’s a powerful spirit of community in North Kensington and there’s no doubt that carnival crowds will feel it, maybe even before they see the signs reminding them about the Grenfell Tower fire.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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On November 4, a statue of an Indian soldier clad in British Army attire was unveiled outside a Sikh temple in the UK town of Smethwick ahead of the Armistice Centenary.��The Lions of the Great War statue — which has since been — is the first of its kind in Britain and symbolic of the who were plunged into World War I.

It also stands as a haunting reminder of how Indian soldiers were repaid a year after the victory when British-Indian troops opened fire on who had gathered near the Golden Temple to celebrate the Sikh festival of Vasakhi on April 13, 1919.

The numbers killed at Jallianwala Bagh in what is known as the Amritsar Massacre are disputed. British-Indian sources cite 379 dead, but a plaque near the Golden Temple site of the massacre reads some following the orders of Colonel Reginald Dyer, who was later promoted by the British for his “feat.” Despite the blood they had shed fighting wars of the British Empire, the unity displayed by Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims that fateful day was allegedly too much for Dyer to bear.

Fast forward to 1968 when Enoch Powell, in his infamous “” speech, vocalized fears about the migration of colonized peoples, including the very migrants he had invited to plug the labor gap in the National Health Service (NHS). Addressing a room full of Conservative MPs, he said: “The Sikh communities’ campaign to maintain customs inappropriate in Britain is much to be regretted … This communalism is a canker; whether practised by one colour or another, it is to be strongly condemned.”

Indians were considered a threat to the British Empire in India and a threat to British sovereignty in Britain. The brunt of this colonial arrogance was felt by Smethwick’s migrant population. Five decades on, the English town near Birmingham has evolved into a multicultural melting pot — from Afghans, Indians and Pakistanis to Brazilians, Iraqis and Portuguese.

Smethwick is a five-minute train ride from Birmingham city center, which is where Powell first made his speech at the Midland Hotel. The town itself is also the birthplace of the UK’s most racist parliamentary elections. It was fueled by a xenophobic campaign in 1964 led by local Conservative MP Peter Griffiths, who won his seat with the , “If you want a nigger for a neighbour, vote Labour.”

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On a rainy Sunday morning, a week before Remembrance Day, and in the heart of industrial Britain, a medley of people from different parts of the world stood submerged in a sea of multicolored turbans and headscarves to honor all the Sikh, Hindu and Muslim soldiers who fought the so-called “Great War” for the British Empire.

Sikhs comprised 20% of British Indian troops. An 74,000 Indian soldiers were killed during the First World War, a further 67,000 . But for Sikhs of Smethwick, the lack of formal recognition of these men only served to add insult to injury. And the wounds, particularly in a place like Smethwick, run deep.

Jatinder Singh, president of the town’s Sikh temple, the Guru Nanak Gurdwara, said the statue aimed to heal those wounds. Perched on a 10-foot plinth, the sculpture towers at 16-feet tall. Along with surrounding fountain and features, it was funded by the gurdwara and local Sandwell Council to the tune of £201,000 ($260,000). Created by artist Luke Perry, some of the words inscribed read: “This statue of a Sikh soldier is dedicated to the brave men of all faiths who served side by side and honours their remarkable contribution to the Great War and other conflicts.”

Singh said: “We felt the need to have a monument to World War I in Smethwick because there’s such a large population of Sikhs and other Asian faiths who live here. There’s always been something vital missing from British history, which doesn’t mention the contribution Sikhs and other faiths from South Asia and the Indian subcontinent made to fight with the British. We felt it was time to change this.”

He said schoolchildren who visit the temple “can now learn how people from South Asia came and fought for Britain, even though they didn’t realistically have any independence of their own.”

He added: “There are still people like Enoch Powell who exist in the UK, which is why it’s important to combat stereotypes and ensure people understand that we’re here, and we’re here to stay. We’ve done everything we can to make the UK a stronger, more diverse nation, and it’s something we should be proud of.”

But Singh mentioned that the UK, as well as formally recognizing the war effort of soldiers from colonized lands, needed to express atonement for atrocities caused by the brutal 1919 Amritsar Massacre. He said: “I would like to hear a public apology at least from Theresa May or Her Majesty’s Government, acknowledging the total wrongness of this act. If Justin Trudeau can have the guts to apologize about Komagata Maru, then perhaps the British should take a leaf.”

Birmingham MP Preet Kaur Gill, the UK’s first female Sikh politician, agreed.��“On the one hand we helped serve your country, and on the other, you repay us like this? And when the British did finally decide to leave, they left a mess,” she said. “The 1947 partition of India led to one of the worst exoduses in the history of the world. After that, there was the Indian government’s treatment of Sikhs with the raid of the Golden Temple, and we still don’t know what happened there.”

She said xenophobic sentiments toward ethnic minorities in the UK were a reflection of empire, as seen by Powell and Griffith’s racist election campaign. But she added such attitudes have also continued with political events like Brexit dividing the country and spawning a climate of hate crime and intolerance toward immigrants and people of all backgrounds.

Gill added: “That’s why it’s really important for people to understand the past. We need to acknowledge and take responsibility for it to clear up misunderstandings and prevent ethnic minorities in the UK from becoming even more segregated.”

The statue, she said, was a “necessary” form of symbolism “in the absence of an education system that failed to address the truth about the South Asian contribution to WW1.” She said any little acknowledgement that had been shown has never done any justice, particularly in light of atrocities committed against those who fought for the British Empire.

From Enoch Powell and the Rivers of Blood to Nigel Farage and Brexit, the small town of Smethwick has experienced an Armageddon of its own. While first-generation migrants recall the verbal and physical abuse triggered by the anti-immigrant sentiments of the 1960s, second and third generations say they cannot help but feel the impact of the hostile environment that surrounds them.

But the Lions of the Great War statue holds a mirror to white British anti-immigrant attitudes — those that reflect a delusional and arrogant empire convinced of its own benevolence.��It screams “lest we forget” the soldiers of colonized lands who not only helped win the wars of the empire, but were also deployed as killing machines to murder their own people, as witnessed in the Amritsar Massacre. The embodiment of a political statement, it also demonstrates the potential to collectively recognize the demons of Britain’s colonial past. At the same time, it conveys that Remembrance Day is less about the glorification of war than about the brutal, genocidal tendencies of an empire and its victory at war.

The small town of Smethwick took one giant leap by honoring South Asian soldiers who fought for the British Empire. The words “about time” was the response that reverberated from people of various nationalities in the area and beyond. And as one local resident who didn’t want to be named said, “The hypocrisy of commemoration does become easier to bear.”

The Lions of the Great War statue has the potential to aspire millions of people across the UK — some with ancestors who either fought for the empire or were brutalized by it. Should other towns and cities begin to follow suit, it could demonstrate the potential to combat an anti-immigrant climate in a post-Brexit world and change the shape of things to come.��

*[A version of this article was originally published by��.]

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Dogs are uniting people in a climate of Brexit uncertainty and helping to change the global image of “immigrant-loathing Brits.” This is the crux of a new campaign that recently took the media by storm, as hundreds of furry friends swamped the streets of London on October 7 to “bark out” for a second “Wooferendum.”

Daniel Elkan, 45, is a self-confessed vessel for canine opinion and the brainchild behind the “pawlitical” campaign, which supports a people’s vote for a second Brexit referendum. He said it was launched “by the dogs for the people” and aimed to make the “biggest bark in history” because Brexit will not only have an impact on humans, but on animal welfare too.

Backed by public figures like Badger Trust chief Dominic Dyer, the campaign has cultivated a “gentler” dialogue between pro and anti-Brexit supporters. It’s now considered an antidote juxtaposing the divisory angry rants that have swamped social media so relentlessly since 48% of voters opted to remain in the European Union.

He may just be onto something. The confusion of Brexit has not only contributed to the segregation and alienation of already marginalized communities. It has also divided families, broken friendships and generated stereotypes on both sides of the debate, said one dog owner at the march.

But the Wooferendum has seduced even the most hardline of dog-loving Brexiteers into sharing the campaign video and poster images of dogs woofing out to “stop Brexit.” And if it has demonstrated one thing, said another protester, it’s the fact “people care more about dogs than they do about humans — and I’m definitely one of them.”

BARKING OUT TO STOP BREXIT

The march began at Waterloo Place, which was dotted with a number of “pee stations” for dogs to “cock a leg” over taped cardboard images of various politicians, including Nigel Farage, Jacob Rees-Mogg and Boris Johnson. Crowds roared with laughter when the first dog did its deed. Demonstrators then marched on to Parliament Square. The event culminated at 10 Downing Street, where Elkan was joined by core members of his team to deliver a “PETition” to Prime Minister Theresa May.

Just days before the march, I had been invited to join him and his team at an Italian restaurant in King’s Cross, where a Swiss camera crew filmed them planning ahead of the event.

Elkan said the idea for a Wooferendum campaign came to him a year ago when he “woke up one morning to the realization that “dogs don’t like Brexit.” After making a bunch of hand-made signs stating “Stop Brexit #Wooferendum,” he approached random dog-owners in his local high street to photograph their pets with the signs.

He said “dogs and their owners were only too keen to get involved,” and the way in which their photographs began to spread across Twitter and Facebook was “social proof [of] how more and more people don’t want Brexit and are barking out against it.”

“Brexit is no joke,” he told me, “but the Wooferendum is approaching it in a way that’s fun and engaging, yet has a serious message: we want to stop Brexit.”

He said the response from dog-owning Brexiteers in parks where he distributed “wooflets” has been “unprecedented” and helped strike up conversations with people he would not normally discuss the issue with.

“The dialogue would begin with the dog, so it was a gentler way of starting up a conversation about something that’s literally divided the country,” he said. “Some Brexiteers even let me take pictures of their dogs because they felt it was just really sweet. It’s a tough dry topic people find hard to discuss, yet find easier if they can talk about it through their dog.”

He said Brexit didn’t just happen two years ago, but is something that has festered in the very fabric of British society since the 1980s — “long before it was even a twinkle in Nigel’s Farage’s eye.”

“I used to do the paper round back then and I’d read headlines that screamed how eurocrats would ruin our lives with rules to stop us eating tinned peas, or stop hairdressers cutting blonde hair, or make all our lovely bananas straight — you name it, Europe was responsible.

“And whenever I stuck The Daily Mail through one letterbox, the dog on the other side would yank it out my hand and you’d hear the sound of it getting ripped to shreds.”

London, UK, 10/07/2018 © Phil Watson

He said the memory remained in the recesses of his subconscious mind, leading to the campaign ethos “by the dogs, for the people.”

The UK, though, was “driving off a cliff,” he said, because of an “uninformed” decision made two years ago when people were “lied to and misled.” And now, he said, it was undemocratic to “tell 48% to just shut up and let it happen.”

But he said the British people who voted Leave also know more now than they did back then — and not just about the impact of Brexit on humans, but on animal welfare too. According to the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons (RCVS), there are registered in the UK, of which 7,700 are from the remaining 27 EU member states. Some in the UK working to protect public health and food safety are trained in EU countries. Furthermore, half the UK’s annual intake of about 2,000 vets also qualify in EU countries.

An RCVS spokesperson said a no-deal Brexit scenario impacting movement of people would “increase barriers to veterinary recruitment” — a situation that threatens to “shrink” the veterinary workforce and puts animal welfare and public health at risk.

Elkan said there are also concerns for domestic animals with rising vet costs and the impact of a no-deal scenario on supply chains, making it difficult to get hold of medicines. Exiting the EU, he said, could also leave the current pet passport system defunct, which means domestic animals could be waiting months before they can travel with owners.

He said it was unlikely the UK would get a Brexit deal that mirrors current arrangements, and contrary to the sovereignty lauded by Brexiteers, exiting would disempower the UK as it goes “cap in hand” seeking trade deals with countries outside the EU.

WOOFERENDUM

About the Wooferendum campaign itself, he said it sought to change the global image of “Brexit-supporting, immigrant-loathing Brits” generated by the likes of Brexiteers such as David Davis, Boris Johnson, Dominic Raab, Jacob Rees-Mogg, Nigel Farage and Jeremy Hunt.

“We don’t want this image of us. We want the world to see us as a nation of dog-loving people famous for our sense of humor and rational disposition.” Following the response of the global media, the campaign, said Elkan, appears to have accomplished just that.

He added: “We also need to decide what kind of country we’re going to be: insular, xenophobic and small-minded, or one which understands openness and the need to embrace diversity?”

Should the People’s Vote march on October 20 pull out the stops for a second referendum, the Wooferendum campaign “could run and run,” said Elkan. “It’s like the Friar Tuck of the Brexit battle,” he added. “We’ll be campaigning to ensure people understand the benefits we get from Europe, the value of people from Europe and beyond, and of us being able to live and work there too.

“And the dogs are going to have a great say in that. In fact, dogs can do a lot. They can engage people and the media, lift spirits and project a bigger voice.

“So we had to let dogs out to do this. In fact, I think they were desperate to get out, but I did help to open the door.”

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect 51�Թ�’s editorial policy.

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