From the Guardian:
'Jean-Claude Juncker, the Luxembourg prime minister who holds the rotating EU presidency and who was said to have been on the verge of tears when he heard news of the Dutch vote, summoned Gerhard Schröder for emergency talks.'
Oh boo fucking hoo.
Are you on the verge of tears when you hear of a profitable company closed down, its assets stripped and thousands of workers thrown on the scrap heap so some rich vampiric little sociopath can now afford to make another ultimately failed attempt to circumnavigate Neptune in a caviar-encrusted hot-air balloon designed by the Japanese Space Agency? When you hear of hospitals and schools being shut down or privatised, do you well up like a maudlin singleton listening to Dido after a bottle and a half of ropey chardonnay? When you heard that French (and Canadian) troops have presided over a U.S.-backed coup in Haiti, throwing the country into fucked-up chaos, with dozens massacred, did you sob quietly at your desk like you did after the other boys pulled your pants down in the changing room in some Luxembourgeois lycée forty years ago? Each time you hear the youth unemployment figures in eastern Germany, can you taste the salty tears on your lips as you make your nose red wiping it with a rough Kleenex? When you gaze at the crowded, washing-line-entwined tower blocks that line the road from the Barcelona airport or smell urine in the corner as you walk past a London council estate, or read the neo-Nazi graffiti daubed on the door of a Rostok refugee apartment complex, do you weep, do you lament, do you howl?
No? Well fuck you. Fuck you.