SO the Fly feels he needs to tell us, yet again, just how angry he is about Brexit.

Clearly the Queen’s Christmas message calling for a bit of calm and respect fell on deaf ears in the Fly’s household.

Well frankly I and most other people, leavers and remainers alike are sick to death of a small but hardcore bunch of angry remainers telling us just how angry they are.

What makes me really angry Fly, is the abuse of your position.

You have the privilege of being given half a page to yourself every week to say what you like with total anonymity and choose to abuse it by ramming your political views down our throats.

Who are you and what is so special about you that grants you this privilege?

And to the editor, why do you continue to allow your local newspaper, which should be politically neutral, to be hijacked by this partisan preaching at us from his anonymous pulpit week after week?

If you must let him then why aren’t the opposing views given an equal airing?

It’s not good enough to rely on a few readers to redress the balance the following week.

Not too long ago The Fly’s column included a rant about how we might be kicking out Polish dentists and building a Trump style wall, something which nobody in their right mind thinks is going to happen.

He was rightly criticised in the letters pages by people who, unlike him, are willing to put their names to their views. I thought he might have been suitably rebuked but no such humility I’m afraid.

If the Fly thinks he’s angry about Brexit, just think how angry he would be if his side had actually won the referendum and were now being denied their victory by a small but fanatical bunch of militant Brexiteers aided and abetted by lying duplicitous politicians who chose to give us the referendum in the first place, who promised it would be a once in a generation affair, said they would honour the result and have since been re-elected on a manifesto pledge to do just that but have spent the last two years doing everything they can to make implementing the result as difficult as possible.

He’d be spontaneously combusting.

Paul Cotton Northwich