The case for Brexit, made by certain Englishmen

There are times when one can begin to understand why so many English people voted for Brexit.

We recently had some work done on our house. Recommendations from friends I always feel are stronger than just a star rating on some kind of internet site. So, with our friends encouraging us to use this particular contractor - let's call him Darren - we weren't too worried that he had absolutely zero references on the website that evaluates firms like his.

Our confidence was somewhat rattled, however, by the same friends phoning us again just days before the work was scheduled to start, saying, "for God's sake, don't use Darren: he's appalling".

Still, we'd already paid him a substantial deposit by then, and his behaviour had been charming. Perhaps with effort on our part we could accommodate him.

Ah, well. Had it only been that simple. We were soon to discover that the only way to accommodate Darren would have been to give him the whole house. And pay him to improve it.

He had a little team of building workers that had been with him for years. English to a man. We were struck by how hard and how well they worked. Until we saw them at a time when he wasn't around. When the cat was away, the mice, it seemed, had endless cigarettes to smoke or phone calls to make from their van outside. If they showed up at all.

Turning a house into a tip
But it isn't builders' work to turn it back, apparently

They also left a trail of dirt behind them which none of them ever bothered to clean. Dust sheets? Apparently never heard of them. Vacuum cleaning after they'd done? Not work for an upstanding builder. Taking off their muddy boots when they came indoors? There was no time for such niceties - after all, they had important cigarettes to smoke.

We decided to be polite but firm.

"You know Gary didn't show up till 10:30?" we might say.

"He tells me he was there at 8:00," Darren might reply, "And I've never known him lie to me."

Things would get broken and have to be replaced.

"It wasn't broken when I last looked at it," he would tell us.

"Well, it's broken now," we'd reply.

"OK, but who's to say it was one of my people who broke it?"

I suppose no one could say that with certainty. Only that no one else had been anywhere near the piece in question but his people had. But we were beginning to understand that pointing out inconvenient truths to Darren, however difficult they might be to deny, would only make the situation worse. And by "worse" I mean pretty seriously worse.

"Just stay there," he told me once, "and I'll be round shortly to sort this out with you, you effing unspeakable."

Only he didn't use the word "effing". Or "unspeakable".

Things reached a climax when he told us that he knew where our sons lived and they'd better keep looking over their shoulders too. Since our sons live in Madrid, that was quite a claim. It also suggested a grip on sanity worthy of a US President (and, yes, I do mean one particular US President).

Overall, however, most of his work was done well with only some blemishes or minor elements incomplete. In the end, for the sake of peace, we decided to call the job done and get the odd bits that needed finishing - or in some cases fixing - dealt with by someone else.

Who did we turn to? Three Poles, for different areas of work. And, you know, they were appalling: they turned up on time, they were quick and efficient, they did high-quality work, they were conscientious, they were honest in their charges, they covered everything around where they were working with dust covers and vacuum cleaned behind them. They never, never threatened us or our family with grievous bodily harm.

One of them was probably the most expensive workman we've ever used, in terms of hourly cost. But since he was also the quickest we've ever seen, the cost of using him was no greater than that of Darren's cigarette-smoking lads. And, boy, the work was immeasurably better.

Now, I know that English workers are by no means all like Darren's. There are conscientious and hard-working individuals among them. But I suspect most Brits reading the account above will find it rings familiar bells. There are far too many for whom those are the appropriate standards for work.

It's to understand why they might decide to vote for Brexit. I mean, those Poles we had clearing up Darren's work, can live and work freely in Britain under the EU rules. And set those shameful standards for work quality.

Who on Earth wants that kind of competition? Especially when, to put a stop to it, all we have to do is vote to leave the EU.

A case that must have seemed compelling, I'm sure, to builders sheltering in a van for their second early mid-morning cigarette break.