Almost three weeks since the......thing.....and not only does the dust refuse to settle but instead it does its best impersonation of those moths at the Euro16 final by continuing to cause chaos pretty much everywhere.
In addition, the main protagonists on the Leave side have......um.......left but not before making themselves steadily less popular than Mary Bale, the woman who put that cat in the wheelie bin a few years back. Incidentally, even if Mary has spent every waking hour of the intervening years doing charity work, she will always be "that woman who put the little pussy cat in the bin". There's a lesson there.
Boris - gone. Nigel - cheerio! Andrea - bye then. Michael - oh, Michael. What did you do? You unleashed hell in the least charismatic way possible and it ended badly, as it was always going to.
Many years ago, at a stag weekend in Oxford, I paint-balled Michael Gove in the testicles. This may rank amongst my proudest achievements alongside surviving a trip to Philadelphia with Britney Spears and writing a biography of The Blue Nile.
I know a fair few people but I know precisely no-one who voted to Leave. The day after the vote, I apologised to all of our European friends for the absurd situation in which we find ourselves.
This blog will rarely be political but it would be interesting to see a survey of Leave voters to find out how many of them feel differently knowing that their leaders have all buggered off within days of what they so ardently fought for becoming reality. The words of John Lydon at the Winterland Theater, San Francisco in January 1978 should be ringing in their ears - "Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?".........