Free I blame the scapegoats by John O'Farrell

empire are like
embarrassing LPs that ended up in your record collection after some
long-forgotten college romance.
    'The Falkland Islands?' says your incredulous
wife. 'How long have you had these?'
    And
you blush and stutter: 'Oh yeah, er, they were Victoria's and somehow I've
still got them.'
    'And what's this? The
Chagos Archipelago?'
    'Oh well, um, when me and India split up, I
was all upset so I refused to give it back . . .'
    Gibraltar was gained during the War of
Spanish Succession, which was fought in order to bore people doing History A-level
three hundred years later. Invasions of Spanish territory by the British have
always taken the same form. Eyewitness accounts of the occupation describe how
hundreds of sunburnt English lads in Union Jack shorts, clutching Stoke City
scarves and copies of Loaded, stormed
the local tavernas at dawn shouting, 'Oi, Manuel! Ten pints of lager pronto.'
And the Spanish fled in horror as the victorious English struck up a chorus of
'Ere we go! Ere we go! Ere we go!' During that war Britain also gained the island
of Minorca, and quickly went about establishing another vital naval staging
post by building the Benny Hill Bar, providing Premiership highlights on
satellite TV and paella and chips with Yorkshire pudding.
    Minorca
was handed back, but Gibraltar remains an embarrassment. Imagine if a
300-year-old war had meant that Clacton-on-Sea was still a Spanish colony
today. Would we demand the return of that Essex coastal resort? Okay, bad
example. Opponents of surrendering sovereignty insist that Britain has a right
to Gibraltar under the terms of the Treaty of Utrecht. The same treaty handed
Sardinia to the Austro-Hungarian Empire and ceded the island of Sicily to
Savoy. This week the government of Savoy was saying nothing. The settlement in
1713 also ensured that British companies had a monopoly of the transportation
of African slaves to the Spanish colonies. Only a handful of Tory MPs still
argue that these rights should be upheld today.
    If people want to remain British, I know an
excellent place they could live. It's called Britain. I have never understood
why the Union Jack-waving expats living thousands of miles away from the mother
country are always so self-consciously more British than the people who live
here. If they really want to be like everyone back in England they should wear
NYC baseball caps and eat Big Macs while watching Friends and Sex and the City. Gibraltarians
have no more right to perpetuate the anachronism of the British Empire than the
descendants of Jewish settlers in the West Bank should have a right to veto a
settlement in the Middle East.
    Till now it's always been presumed that
sovereignty might possibly be shared at some vague point in the future - a sort
of ‘ manana split'.
But the brave way to deal with this problem would be to set a definite date for
Gibraltar's return to Spain. It should be far enough away that the
Gibraltarians can't really imagine it ever coming round, but soon enough for
the Spanish to think it's not worth making a fuss between now and then. How
about 2029 - the two hundredth anniversary of the Treaty of Seville when Spain
renounced its claim to the Rock after its failed invasion? But the government
must make this announcement soon before the Gibraltarians realize that they
have one very persuasive negotiating ploy left up their sleeve. What if they
were to ally themselves with other Britons living further up the Spanish coast?
Suddenly they might find their wishes being respected. Round the conference
table would be the Spanish Minister, Jack Straw and Mad Mick from Romford who
moved to Marbella in a hurry after the Brinks Mat heist.
    'Well, Mr Straw, you can overrule the Brits
living in Spain if you like. But I'm afraid it means I will have to saw your
legs off and have them buried in the concrete of the Stratford East Rail Link.'
    'Urn . . . yeah, well, maybe we shouldn't
rush into any decision just yet. . .'
    And
the