Looking for the Exit

By Jim Hagarty

I tried to stop it. Brexit. Not the referendum by the British to leave the European Union. I couldn’t stop that.

I tried to stop the suffix “exit” from entering the lingo but it’s too late. Journalists have grabbed onto it and away we go.

France might be the next to go. That will be the Frexit. The headline on my morning paper today asked the question, Quebexit? Separatists in the Canadian province of Quebec are encouraged.

But get ready for a few painful months of “exit” at the end of everything. Garbage day: Traxit. Divorce? Weddexit? Leaving home? Nestkit?

I can’t think of all the ways it will be used just yet but I know that headline writers are losing their minds this weekend at the prospect of a whole new world. I know because I used to be a headline writer. We are a simple people, easily amused. But then I retired.

Or retirexit, if you will.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.