Perhaps you have heard of the, predominantly American movement, of 'Doomsday Preppers'. The key tenet of the movement is based on a fear that society as we know it is on the brink of collapse and, as such, people should prepare themselves as best they can for this moment. Adherents of the movement stockpile canned goods; rudimentary weaponry and fuel sources, amongst other things as well as teaching themselves basic survival techniques. When the end times eventually do come and, when faced with the complete disintegration of every last vestige of civilisation and we are all forced to eat one another to survive, they aim to be the people who will at least have a well stocked spice-rack and recipe-book to hand to make this as palatable an experience as possible.
Given the catastrophic uncertainty that surrounds Brexit, even with a withdrawal plan having finally been drafted and proffered to the Houses of Parliament, it is understandable that a similar sort disaster mentality is being adopted by certain sections of the British public. While much has already been made about the likely impact Brexit will have on Britain's ability to import some vital ingredients, it is worth remembering just how fundamentally it will impact every aspect of Britain's import economy. It has been reported that Premier Foods, owners of Bisto and several other well-known food brands have begun stockpiling some £10 million worth of raw materials in anticipation of any unforeseen complications brought about by Brexit.
While it is all very well for the politicians, the lawyers, the people of business - in short, the elite - to fret over things like the impact any accepted deal will have on say the movements of people and the placements of borders, who will be left to worry about the things that really matter - who will worry about the gravy? Who will worry about the gravy?
Well, as has conveniently been answered by a vox pops recorded by Channel 4's Paraic O'Brien, it turns out: this woman. This woman and her mother will worry about the gravy.
Brexit.
It's all gravy. pic.twitter.com/tzAxsdsPFn
— Channel 4 News (@Channel4News) November 15, 2018
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The interviewee reveals that, when faced with the vast swathes of uncertainty generated by the veritable cataclysm that is Brexit, she and her mother have felt it incumbent upon themselves to begin to stockpile Bisto gravy., like squirrels amassing nuts in anticipation of the winter of Brexit.
Imagine, in the post-Brexit hellscape that will become Northern Ireland, where hordes of angry people stand, rattling the towering chain-link fence that ended up eventually being erected across the entire land border between the North and the South - in spite of everyone's wishes. Through the fug of hunger that engulfs them after all the animals, all the street cats and street dogs have been eaten and it seems that soon, they will have to turn on one another - one of these people will think, "Hold on, didn't Jean say something about stockpiling some things to prepare for this very eventuality?" And they will painfully, agonisingly drag their aching body down streets and lanes, across fields and through rivers to get to Jean's house where they will knock on her door, seeking shelter, salvation, seeking food. Jean will answer and they will ask of her, through chapped, parched lips "Jean, please, you must help me." And Jean will smile and say "Of course dear friend, of course I will help you. Of course I will feed you." And she will take off the last of the heavy-bolted security-latches from the door to throw it open to welcome in her friend in need. And they will look around them, at the crates upon crates of Bisto stacked high against every wall and surface in the house and say, "Fucking hell Jean, I hope you got some chips or something too." And Jean will smile at her friend in need, and say, "No, it's just gravy. Lots and lots of gravy."
