Regrexit: Do You Speak 2016?


by Emily Philips |
Published on

We're all reeling from a summer of rain and political unrest. Our new mantra is 'WTF is going on?'

But, thanks to social media cut-and-shut fever and an addiction to Love Island, we've got a raft of new words to deal with these crazy times...

Regardless of which side EU’re on, it seems a lot of people have got a bad case of regrexit right now.

So whether you’re being petitulant (petulantly petitioning) and adding your fignature (touch-screen signature) to a, or having a change of heart about your bad shout (wrongly chosen shy leave vote) because your Croatian party fund has just halved, there’s a strong stench of brension (brexit tension) in the air.


Although we’ve recovered a bit from how extra (extreme) the fall-out was from the referendum madness, we’ve bodybagged (to hold within a cross-torso bum-bag) our now high-value stash of leftover $1 bills from

our last Trump-free trip to America. This is of course to pay for food rations which will no doubt be the next hideous turn of events.

Behaving British (doing something you’ll immediately regret after), we completely deleted our Facebook account in protest, but our Whatsapp groups continue to be just as mind-bogglingly woke (socially, politically and racially aware) as Lindsay Lohan’s – unexpected – referendum commentary (#stay).

Having worn out our iPhones from refreshing newsfeeds in search of more cous (coup news), we’ve even found ourselves unexpectedly catching feelings (falling) for surprisingly shapey (could be sexy, could be

untrustworthy) relative unknowns such as SNP MEP Alyn Smith and his persuasive eyebrow.

Sick of Nigel Farage acting muggy (being a bullshtter) – both in face, and in political sentiment? You’ve joined the ABs (Anything Buts) to keep out parcels (party killers) Corbyn and Boris (– it worked! #boxit).

Meet the post-brexit 'groutfit' ©Rex

In post Europalypse Little Britain (needs no explaining), June has been a complete swashout (summer rain-off), so we’ve regressed to our swinter (seasonal hybrid) wardrobes, having lost one of our illadvised sliced loafs (backless loafers) in the Glastonbury mud.


White’s not going to cut it for Wimbledon and black’s a bit EU-gloom for Centre Court, so we’ve planned a groutfit (all-grey look). The

first sign of sun and we’ll be casting off our top coats (fashionable yet protective over jacket) for some light shmouldering (getting our

shoulders out) and we’re fluffing (combing) our furry sliders in hope of one fine day. Just one would be nice.

You got all that, right?

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