There are many signs of an intelligent person - an expansive vocabulary, a nimble mind, boundless curiosity 
But - as the research and vast numbers of studies have clearly demonstrated - the single greatest indicator of intelligence is this: 
When given the opportunity to move out of the United Kingdom - an intelligent person looks around and says the following: ‘this place is a total crap bowl - I’m outta here” 
So off they go to Harvard, Sloan-Kettering or Silicon Valley, Paris to write novels 
And what do they leave behind? 
An island full of Chavs and estate agents 
Drunk plumbers, shifty solicitors 
Zombie faced Costa employees 
Obese pensioners 
On motorized scooters 
From the inbred Orkneys all the way down to that dumpy, dangerous ferris wheel at Brighton beach 
North to South 
East to West 
The intelligent ones are all gone 
Leaving behind a nation of 70 million Daily Mail readers 
And all six hundred and fifty members of the House of Commons 
And the crusty old dolts who listen to that mind numbingly dull Radio Four gardening show 
That cross-eyed cashier at the Tesco Express off the A-40 near Hounslow 
The drooling ticket taker at the Odeon in Uxbridge 
Graham Norton and his dumb little beard 
The entire cast of Love Island 
And all the buffoons who watch Love Island 
Particularly those buffoons who are able to name every single cast member from Love Island — including the Italian twins - Josh and Tony - from all the way back in season one. And the complete dunces who watch Josh and Tony’s YouTube channel and read their cooking blog and know from his Instagram account that Tony recently got a shoulder tattoo of a pigeon. And everyone who really wishes Tony would post more pictures of himself not just SITTING IN HIS HOT TUB (with only his head visible) but CLIMBING OUT OF the hot tub - with his wet hairless chest - and WITHOUT SUNGLASSES so we can see his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes. And everyone who imagines clinking flutes of champagne with Tony on a hot August night in Portofino - both of them sweating through silk and seer-sucker - the sexual electricity so potent it could power an entire city. 
And everyone who is totally confused and hurt when Tony deletes their posts on his Facebook page - even the most recent photoshopped picture featuring the two of them lying wrapped around one another on a circular bed - surrounded by mirrors and pigeons - Tony being fed walnuts from a hollowed out Prince Edward bust 
Oh Tony why do you do this to me!!!! 
Blocked on Twitter! Blocked on Instagram! Blocked on email! Blocked phone number! Blocked by a pane of rising glass when ALL I’M TRYING TO DO is hand you a note through the car window! 
Tony, I refresh the page every two minutes but there’s no mention of you in The Daily Mail! Or the Express! Or The Sun! I watch every single episode of Love Island hoping for a cameo but it never comes! I watch it again! Nothing! I watch it backwards! Nothing! In slow motion! Nothing! In slow motion AND backwards! Nothing! 
Hello Magazine! The Express! Top Gear! 
Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! 
I’ve checked the carousel at Blackpool Pleasure Beach and the Toby Carvery in Langley! I’ve searched the Odeon Uxbridge and the Wimbledon Wimpy Burger! The pay to piss loos at Waterloo Station and the abandoned Little Chef in Hemel Hempstead! 
Tony - please please please come save me from this eighty IQ shithole excuse for a country! 
I’m counting on you Tony! 
The two of us in Portofino! 
You’re my only hope! 
Oh look the mail just showed up! 
Maybe a note from you? 
A card? 
Maybe both! 
Wait a second… 
What the hell is this? 
OH GOD SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD I HATE THIS FUCKING COUNTRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
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