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    The trouble is Howard that as ever we overestimate our own importance. Having just spent a week in Florence where I daily read the International New York Times, also glancing at the Italian Papers, the world outside does not actually seem to give a toss whether we remain in or get out!

    Frankly, returning to the UK, as ever, it seems a bit like returning to a third world country. The train connection was late and full of scruffy obese people who insisted on saying f**k every second word which no-one turns a hair about nowadays.

    Meanwhile the Border Farce officer at Gatwick is processing the queue at snail's rate and rather than letting me pass 'without let or hindrance' my passport having 'satisfactorily shown nationality and identity' insists on wanting to know where I a white male 64 yr old has come from as I might be a drugs smuggler or a terrorist apparently! FFS!

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