I turned in at 6am this morning, afraid I'd wake up and it all be a dream.

Turning on the news to find the Leave campaign broken-hearted, Farage conceding defeat and millions of British patriots resigned to the loss of a country their grandfathers fought to defend.

But I've pinched myself, had coffee, checked all the papers, watched the Prime Minister resign and heard the whoops and cheers of the Leavers.... Believers.

And it's all still true. We're out. We voted Leave.

Vote Leave supporters, watching the results come in last night. Hopkins said it marks the day that Britain reclaimed its birthright

Watching the results come in was a glorious thing. A moment in history. Hearing the heartlands of the nation jump to its feet, one by one, and shout 'leave'.

West Devon: Leave. Sheffield: Leave. Sunderland: Leave.

Each returning vote, flicking a v-sign right back at Bob Geldof, simpering liberals and the politics of fear.

Ashford. Leave. Erewash (I know, me neither). Leave. Eastbourne. Leave.

The authors of the Remain campaign, now conspicuous by their absence. Lying low; pondering their chances of clinging on to their selfish ambition.

Theresa May - happy to lecture our police. Too weak to fight for our country. Now wondering if she said sufficiently little to stay in post. Pathetic.

Osbourne - rowing back on every threat he ever made, watching power slip through his fingers as quickly as his receding hair.

Britain has finally stood behind our big hitter, Boris Johnson (pictured) who put it all on the line to be true to the vision for Britain he believes in

Philip Hammond, Jeremy Hunt, Justine Greening, and 18 other cabinet members, suddenly on the wrong side of history. Backing the wrong horse.

Coventry. Leave. Darlington. Leave. West Midlands. Leave.

All shouting right back at the liberal luvvies paraded before us as the definitive arbiters of right and wrong, what's socially acceptable and not.

JK Rowling, Benedict Cumberbatch, Idris Elba. Flaunting their dubious political credentials, beloved of the left. Can we stop listening to these players now?

Even businessmen who should know better hedged their bets against us. Richard Branson used to celebrate the underdog. Now he's a mongrel mascot for the disenfranchised.

And despite the collective hangover felt on the stock exchange this morning, nothing will make me regret the celebrations of the night we decided to take our country back.

When we decided the sovereignty, democracy and security of our country mattered more. When we took back control of our borders, resisted the dictatorship of the EU and fought back against laws not of our own making.

We voted to figure out who can stay in our country, or who we will deport. Whether criminals deserve the right to a family life. What we do with our own funds. What small business can afford.

We decided to stop paying bureaucrats simply for turning up, to reject the dictatorship of Junker and his crony mates telling us to stand in line, and send Obama to the back a queue for his pension cheque.

We stood up for our own families, who need doctors appointments and primary schools for their kids, who did not deserve to be put in second place behind families fresh off a plane. We voted to stop sending your taxes back to kids in countries other than our own.

Philip Hammond (left), Jeremy Hunt (right), Justine Greening, and 18 other cabinet members, are suddenly on the wrong side of history.

We applauded our fishing fleet for persevering through adversity to reclaim the waters their fathers fished in. And voted with our feet to reclaim the £350 million we send to the EU - for our own NHS, instead of subsidising the lavish lifestyles of fat cats and bureaucrats from The European Union

And we took a once in a generation opportunity to take back control of our borders, to stop unchecked immigration, to say no to the Turkish invasion and push back on Merkel, mother of all migrants.

And we stopped listening to David Cameron, because we are smarter than that.

Katie Hopkins (pictured) said Britain has finally reclaimed control over its sovereignty, democracy and security

Failing to get a deal from the EU was one thing. Trying to flog a bad deal to us like a second-hand carpet salesman was quite another. Dave needed to come clean.

'This deal stinks.' We prefer the truth.

But he held his nose, and lied to us, repeatedly. A wolf acting like any other EU sheep.

And we stopped being scared. We simply couldn't be frightened. The brave of Britain ignored all the tales of fear from the city. Every banker, every expert, every institution who told us Brexit would spell disaster... the CBI, the IMF, the OECD, the IFS.

We told them to rearrange their powerful acronyms into a well known phrase or saying.

'EU can f*** off too.'

Because the terror we might import from Syria via Europe is greater than any we face at home in the UK.

And we decided against the wretched grief-fest manipulated in the wake of the death of Jo Cox MP and looked to our own children and grandchildren and hoped we could make our country a better place for them to live happily instead.

And finally, we stood behind our big hitter. Boris Johnson. He put it all on the line. He risked it all, to be true to the vision for Britain he believes in.

We followed. Nervously at times. Occasionally doubting. Sometimes bolstered by bombastic rhetoric. But we followed and we kept the faith. We reclaimed our national identity, which mattered more to our hearts than tomorrow's pound in our pocket or the fear planted in our heads,

And woe betide the martinets of Brussels if they even think about robbing us. Or making us keep voting until we get the right answer like they did the Irish.

We won fair and square against some of the most reprehensible campaigning I've ever seen.

So as Boris surely heads for Number 10, the EU begins to implode, and Britain retakes its place as the decider of its people's destiny, I am finally able to sleep.