Disc brakes are dead

If Brexit happens and May decides to chuck all the forrins out i'd happily trade our burgeoning population of imported Quentin and Harriets for a goodly section of the Turkish, Jamaican, Lebanese, Indian and Portuguese communities in London if only to satisfy my culinary lusts-by far the best thing about my time there was eating fucking amazing food from all over the world. Quentin and Harriet just bring organic soup stalls, social inequality, a complete inability to regulate the volume of their voices and branches of Pret.