1. Eat marmite. I've scraped more palatable stuff from inside engine blocks. Honestly, what are you people thinking?
2. Give up my residual, hardwired chip-on-shoulder resentment of the Royal family. I mean, that the f*ck is this all about? Who are all the people who voted? Do they *all* watch equestrianism, where, let's face it, the horse is doing most of the work? (insert she-looks-like-a-horse gag here)
3. Buy napkin rings. No, no, no, NOOOO!
4. Get opera. I try, I really do, but I find it hard to suspend disbelief that much. Maybe I haven't seen the right one yet.
5. Buy the Daily Mail.
6. Vote Tory. Even if there was a gun to my head, I think I would find it very hard. Again, probably hardwired. I blame my grandfather. He sat my on his knee when I was no more than five, pointed at the scary woman with the big handbag and the funny man-voice who was on the telly, and said to me, 'That, little Moai, that, is the enemy.'
7. Give up on Wales. Even after things like this, I have kept going, kept hoping. I think it's a form of psychopathy.
8. Embrace a monotheistic religion. I lost all faith in a benevolent, omnipotent god on this day.
9. Read Harry Potter. I've lasted this long, I see no reason to give up my cherished ignorance now. Anyway, I can watch the films at Christmas with a sherry and a chocolate orange like everyone else.
10. Give up blogging *altogether*. Sigh.