09-10-2016 16.00 hrs - Tom, from Scotland, has lived in The Netherlands since 1972 and has a Dutch wife. The editorial office of the world famous weekly newspaper The Posthoorn (chosen by 75% of their readers as their favorite alternative cat litter) thought is was time to send their reporter to Tom's local pub for a follow up interview with Netherlands first 'Brexit prepper'.
The reporter approaches the pub, 10 steaming, flat beers are outside on a table. Tom recognizes me and shakes my hand vigorously: "Fucking nice to see you again, want a fucking beer or do you want fucking something else?" I'm flabbergasted, is Brexit affecting Tom? "Ah, well in Scotland every other word in a sentence is fuck, so I'm really trying hard to adjust to the Scottish conversational way." Tom's wife, waving her sixth Calvados around says: "It is a fucking disgrace to hear them talk that way, I usually cover my bloody ears so I do not have to listen to that shit."
Any more prepping Tom has done in the meantime? "Well I started to drink Irn Bru again, a fizzy, bright looking orange drink, Scotland's 2nd national drink, next to whiskey. Lots of sugar and unknown chemicals, but it is very good for a hangover. Their advertisement is amazing: a billboard used to feature a young woman in a bikini along with the slogan 'I never knew four-and-a-half inches could give so much pleasure'. Pure advertisement for the male members of the Scottish population, cannot see fucking Coca Cola doing that for you."
Tom looks paler than the last time. "It might be a lack of vitamins, since I start eating Scottish meals. Everything is deep fried, even Mars bars, a Scottish delicacy. We cook our vegetables for several hours, making sure they are soft enough so we can mash them with potatoes when making 'Rumbledethumps'. There might be some vitamin C in our 'Clooty dumplings' or 'Howtowdie with drappit eggs' but I doubt it. For those interested in the recipes trawl the Internet for a week and you might find them."
Any more prepping? "Not really that much at the moment, I try to read the Daily Wail every day, to see what Mrs. May is up to. She suddenly seems to be in a hurry. The Labour party suffers from infighting, the UKIP from real fighting; the Scots keep fighting about a new referendum for Independence and the pound is fighting for survival. It seems a battle no one can win."
This reporter takes his leave and promises Tom to come back soon to see if he has a fighting chance to survive as a "Brexit prepper". He fights his way out of the pub; it is full of English tourists demanding 'a fucking Scottish beer'.