IF proof were needed of how cold and callous Brexit Britain has become, that reality was demonstrated over the last few weeks by its complete disregard for the plight of Ukrainian refugees.
While the rest of Europe removed all impediments for fleeing Ukrainians, the UK demanded all its immigration rules be followed to the letter.
Ukrainians already resident in the UK found themselves stranded at Calais, unable to bring relatives back across the channel with them.
Whilst this was happening, Home Secretary Priti Patel announced in Westminster that a visa centre was operational in Calais, a claim which was patently untrue.
Weary stranded refugees were instead directed to make a journey of 70 miles to Lille where they could apply for a UK visa.
In contrast, Poland threw open its border to almost two million Ukrainian women and children, with the other Baltic states taking another half million. At the time of writing, Ireland had accepted almost 6,000 refugees, six times the number allowed into the UK.
I don't believe the fault for the parsimonious response to this humanitarian disaster lies with the British people, 100,000 of whom signed up in one day to house Ukrainian refugees.
The blame lies solely with this Tory government, whose lack of empathy is hardly surprising considering the xenophobic undercurrent which fuelled its Brexit campaign.
Those wishing to help the Ukrainian people can donate to the DEC Ukraine Crisis Appeal, which can be found at dec.org.uk (donations can also be made at justgiving.com/fundraising/inews).
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BELFAST City Council last week debated adopting new powers to curb the prevalence of hell and brimstone preachers operating in the city centre.
Whilst I appreciate the need to curtail homophobic hate preachers, I feel those with a genuine calling to share their faith, whatever faith that may be, should be able to do so.
Many years ago, walking through Cornmarket, I happened upon a young boy, Bible in hand, doing his best to preach his good news.
Looking as if he had just stepped from the classroom, he was in some difficulty as two drunks had decided to amuse themselves by taunting and humiliating him.
I intervened and told the men to leave the boy alone or they would require colonoscopies to retrieve their bottles of Buckfast. Still sober enough to realise I wasn't joking, they moved away and the boy preacher nodded his appreciation.
This all came back to me during the week when my wife related a similar experience she had had in town in the run-up to Christmas - which had a somewhat different outcome. Walking along Donegall Place in Belfast she noticed a group of young people heckling a preacher.
This preacher, however, wasn't a boy, but a grown man using a microphone to scream homophobic hate. While the young people were doing their best to shout him down, they were failing as the man's mobile microphone was powered from a backpack he was wearing.
I'll paraphrase what happened next, for legal reasons. My wife, disgusted by the man's hateful comments and desperate to get away, cut behind him.
In so doing, her hand 'inadvertently' became entangled in the power cable hanging from the preacher's backpack, which she 'accidentally' detached, rendering him mute. The group of young people exploded in cheers, and I was yet again reminded why I'd married the woman.
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I NOTICED a video clip on anti-social media this week from BBC journalist Andrea Catherwood, who was travelling home via Lisbon airport.
In it, she compared a long, snaking line of those travelling with a British passport, with no queue for those holding an EU one. I replied we had the perfect NI phrase to describe such a situation, namely, 'slap it up them'.
Unfortunately, the negative ramifications of Brexit isn't confined to what type of passport you own. Over the last number of months, I've noticed many over-the-counter medicines are no longer available, with chemists having no idea when they'll be able to restock.
And I'm sick seeing a warning flash up on Amazon telling me the item I want isn't available because of where I live. I became so frustrated I phoned the Amazon help desk where a polite young man explained my item couldn't be delivered as I didn't reside in the UK.
I was shocked to hear myself angrily correct him saying, "But you're wrong, Northern Ireland is in the UK." Forget 'taking the soup' - I'm embarrassed to admit I denied my nationality for the princely sum of a keyring torch... something I don't even need.
