I think that this will be seen, historically, as the 'key moment' that defined the beginning of the end of the Brexit ideal.
It won't be the 'whole truth' of course - we have been sliding inexorably toward this point for some time. But sometimes bullet-points will suffice.
Jacob Cream-Cracker getting his nanny to nail a 'brass plate' in Ireland will be seen as the end of the beginning;
the craven 'men & white men first' bailing of Dyson to the life boats will be the beginning of the end.
In between there has been much sound and fury that will ultimately signify nothing.
I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;
There in their heat the winter floods
Of frozen loves they fetch their girls,
And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.
These boys of light are curdlers in their folly,
Sour the boiling honey;
The jacks of frost they finger in the hives;
There in the sun the frigid threads
Of doubt and dark they feed their nerves;
The signal moon is zero in their voids.
