GREAT BRITAIN: Eh, Brothers?

In London last week, from Blackfriars to Tilbury, the normally bustling Thames-side was a brackish backwater. Its forest of cranes was all but motionless. At its wharves 154 ships, Plimsolls awash, groaned to be delivered of cargoes. This week many a Briton would eat more corned beef and dislike it, while fresh beef, Irish eggs and succulent tomatoes waited or rotted beneath battened hatches and in warehouses. Equally worrisome to Britain was the fact that a flood of goods intended for the export trade was piling up at dockside. And at week's end, this state of things had been...

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