Of Brexit and Bigots: The Dowager Countess Goosenberry Weighs In

The Dowager Countess Goosenberry

The past three days have been nonplussing at best, as voters in the UK have decided to leave the European Union. I was fortunate enough to catch up with my dear friend, The Dowager Countess Goosenberry by phone. She was exceedingly animated during our conversation and I fear given to the drink again while we were talking. Here is an excerpt she has allowed me to share.

Michael, I must tell you that at first, I had no idea what Brexit was. In fact, I was talking with my dear son Tarquin ( still a lovely bachelor, ladies), and he cleared it up for me. You see, I thought Brexit was some new type of American breakfast sandwich. Michael, I mean no disrespect, but you Americans seem so bent on vulgarizing everything you touch. 

I hear a long pause. Countess, are you still there? Oh goodness, I fear we Brits no longer have the moral high ground, do we? Our departure from the EU, motivated out of ignorance, fear, and outright racism, seems to put us in the same category of Swiftian Yahoos. 

I must confess, I have not been a fan of the EU, but leaving it just never made sense to me. Then I started seeing that awful racist, Nigel Farage talking about UKIP. Well, Michael, at first, I thought he was making some deranged command for us all to take a nap … and Farage does tire me. Finally, my dearest Tarquin explained to me that Farage and the UK Independence Party (UKIP) were pushing for the vote to leave the EU.

I hear a long and dramatic sigh from the Countess, when she resumes: Michael, I will tell you candidly, I did vote for David Cameron, which I regretted, and my Tarquin was quite vexed with me, but now I find myself having to actually defend Cameron. 

I have been both laughing at and feeling sorry for you over there across the pond with Donald Trump as a presidential candidate, but now we seem to be the target of much similar, well deserved ribbing. It is all I can bear to have to look at Boris Johnson. As my Tarquin says, ‘Johnson is Donald Trump without all of the orange base makeup gone wrong.” Is there such a thing as an albino cheeto? Michael, can you tell me is it true that your Mr. Trump has appointed right wing Christian fanatics and homophobes, such as Michele Bachmann and Jerry Falwell, Jr? Oh my! Well, I do suppose we are not quite as bad off as you are there. 

My hope is that your country will learn from our mistake. While the dissolution of the middle class is real, and we have overwhelming evidence of the negative impact of neoliberalism, this is not a time to yield to fear and hate mongering and to racism. Indeed, your Mr. Trump seems to thrive and give voice to racism, homophobia, and misogyny. As you know, Michael, the wave of regret is currently washing over the population here about leaving the EU. I hope your Yahoo Doodle Dandy Trump and his live reality television campaign do not prevail. 

I hear ice rattling in a glass during another pause. Finally the Dowager returns. Do forgive me, Michael, but I must dash. I’m heading to my Scottish property for a bit of fresh air. Whoever thought the Scots would get politics right?! Best of luck with your election…

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The Dowager Countess Goosenberry

The Dowager Countess Goosenberry

I first met the Dowager Countess Goosenberry in 1992 when she was visiting the States. At that point she was just the 12th Countess Goosenberry, for her husband, Alfred, was still alive.  I have been very fortunate to remain close friends with the Dowager Countess Goosenberry and she has given me permission to make public some of our very private conversations.  My thanks to the Dowager for her candor on issues ranging from governments around the world to her views on women’s rights and the rights of the LGBTQ community.  My additional thanks to my husband and my friend Brad for helping corral the Countess, for she was given to the drink during this particular interview.

When did you first become an ally to the LGBTQ community?

That moniker has become quite cumbersome, hasn’t it? Honestly, Michael, I’m not sure I ever met a gay until my dear son Tarquin introduced me to some of his friends.  My Tarquin is quite open-minded and obviously a member of the Labour party (as am I on certain occasions).  Might I add that he is quite the debonaire bachelor, ladies.  He can cook and sew, in fact he did my makeup for this interview  Yes he is quite a catch, my Tarquin.  I’m now in my eighth decade and the whole kerfuffle seems to me to be much ado about nothing. Back home in Shropshire the gays can make their partnerships official — but then we Brits have always been ahead of you Americans in regards to civil rights.   In fact,  my Tarquin said he actually went to a gay wedding and it was quite lovely. I don’t like to drop names, frankly I’m not a name dropper, but Tarquin went to Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi’s wedding. Tarquin designed Portia’s dress.  I just can’t figure out why some young woman hasn’t snapped up my dear Tarquin yet.  Might I just add, Michael, that we in Great Britain do not discriminate against gay boy scouts.

Countess, is it true that you are personal friends with the Queen and with other members of the Royal Family?

I don’t like to discuss with whom I keep company, but yes. Liz and I are old friends.  We used to play on lawns and landscaped gardens together. When my Tarquin was younger, Prince Edward once gave him a Woody.

I beg your pardon. What?

Oh yes. My Tarquin loved the Toy Story movies and Prince Edward was kind enough to give him the Woody figurine, it is not a doll mind you; it is a figurine.

Oh, I see. Countess, I know you live in Shropshire now, but have you any thoughts about our upcoming Presidential election?

Michael, you know I thought your Mr. W. Bush was just ghastly and it  seems to me that your country  wants more of Bush with that odious Mr. Romney.  I don’t mind telling you that we are not fond of Mr. Romney back home. His behavior in London was unforgivable, and his attitudes towards women are shockingly medieval. Although I do sometimes don a wimple–it can be very forgiving on the neck of a woman of my age. Before my Alfred died, he would have given Mr. Romney an earful. (Just between  you and me, my late Alfred did tend to lean toward the Labour Party. Made for some awkward drinks parties, I can assure you!)

Countess, I want to be respectful, but didn’t your late husband have an affair?

Yes, yes. It is true. My Alfred did have several dalliances, but then we did love each other to the very end. If you want the truth, I looked forward to my time alone. So many seasons, I would find myself hinting over the top of my ladies’ magazine, “did you see that pretty little so and so down in the village. I do believe she was eyeing you inappropriately.” Even after his tryst with Maggie Thatcher, we were still able to hold our marriage together.  You know they met at a leather bar?

I’m sorry, what? They met where?

Yes, at a leather bar. You see they both were buying new saddles for their respective horses.  I seem to recall the mention of some sort of stud fee, as well. Alfred told me all about it.  Apparently, Maggie has quite a grip and is much taller and more muscular than I remember.

Oh, I see. It seems an unlikely match.

Well, it was on the order of opposites attracting, really. I believe she also reminded him of a German nanny he had in the 30s… Ah well, it was brief and in the long run made our union stronger. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off for a Brazillian wax. We shall chat again soon!

The Dowager Countess departed before I could get her to clarify that statement. I look forward to sharing our next chat with you as soon as I can.