Hello everyone, you remember me….the doctor who cured the Health Service after everyone expected me to be fired after trying to give the British TV market to Rupert Murdoch. Well as you can see, I’m a fighter to the end and now – blow me down – I’m foreign secretary and pitching in there to make sure that the British People’s will prevails on this knotty issue of the European Union and whether to crash out of it with No Deal and thus face generations of starvation once the protective cloak of our European friends has been removed.
You see, I do understand that you voted for something called Brexit in 2016 and I do feel your frustration at not getting what you thought you wanted, but at the same time an awful lot of highly skilled and experienced people in this, our hallowed village of Whiteminster, want to make absolutely sure you don’t wind up with something you didn’t really want all, you just thought you did….especially when almost all those people I just mentioned think you were wrong.
Politics has always been about compromise, and being right about something is always more important than how many people disagree with you. I’m sure that even the extreme No Deal Brexiteers with swivel-eyed fantasies about exports can accept that, and I’m afraid the reality is that 100% of senior Whitehall chaps and 75% of MPs are convinced that they’re right and you’re wrong. So while democracy says the numbers are on your side, the leadership principle says we’re right, and when right is on your side – as we showed in 1914 and again in 1940 – then our side should win.
The clinching argument for me is that whereas you the People only got a majority of 52% for doing the wrong thing, 170% of the people who run things are convinced they’re right. It’s a conclusive argument, I’m sure you agree. When you think about it a little.
So, let’s let bygones be bygones, let’s not have any more silly nonsense about Referendums – one was too many and two would never be enough. No, there’ll be no second Referendum because that would be disrespectful to you the People. Mistakes have been made, but lessons have been learned, and now it’s time to all get round a table and work out how to make the best of it. I see my job going forward on the road to becoming Prime Minister as being to do your bidding in a way that won’t cause total and utter catastrophe.
That means accepting Theresa May’s deal, and I personally support this deal because it is the only one we’ve got. Now we can argue uphill and downdale about how and why it wound up being the only deal we’ve got, but as I’ve always said, a bad deal is better than nothing. I do realise of course that Mrs May said No Deal is better than a bad deal, but that was before she knew just how good that bad deal was going to be. Why, only yesterday the Japanese Prime Minister Downton Abe said how much everyone in the world hopes we don’t commit commercial suicide by being unreasonable. “I was verr leasonabbrur,” he told me, “and rook – I gorr berr deal than you got, an’ we not even membres of Ellopean Runyon”. You have to admit, he has a point.
Now you know me as a fighter. I have fought long and hard for the rights of minorities like Newscorp, BUPA, JHJ Lewis and many other deserving causes. And believe me, I’m going to fight tooth and nail to help get this Bill through Parliament next week. No cause, I believe, is ever hopeless as long as you have things like the BBC, riot police, ESN lobby fodder, business, the City, NATO, MI6 and the army on your side.
A wind of change is blowing through the House of Commons: the pen is mightier than the sword, especially when applied to a large cheque from Coutts. So far, three Tory MPs and a division clerk have changed their stance on the Bill. Before they were stamping on it, now they are merely dancing around it. And as time goes on, many a legislator will grasp how the science of causing pain without breaking bones or even raising bruises has moved on since the Irish troubles of long ago.
One rolling acorn will start an avalanche to fell every tree in our way. And remember that – whatever happens – we in Parliament have already refused to leave on March 29th with No Deal – and our friends in the European Commission have, equally, refused to offer us an Article 50 extension. Theresa begged them to at least give us a small conservatory from Everest, but they have remained adamant.
So unless the Sovereign body with a larger majority and more facts gets its way, we will all wake up on March 30th to chaos. Fridges will switch off, everyone will get pregnant, the NHS will emigrate to New Zealand, the Russians will invade East Germany, the Chinese will steal Japan, Trump will assassinate Mexico and what’s more, Guo indoors will give me an earful when I get home.
Can you really look me in the eye – all you posturing MPs and nasty nonviolent extremist Little Englanders out there – and say that you want to live with the guilt of having caused that for the rest of your lives?
Of course not. Beneath the surface, you see, we the more enlightened post-Baby Boomer generation have many fine qualities in common: dogged belief, shopping, respect for experts, a dislike of bullets – especially biting them – and an acceptance of what we hear and read. We do not worry about the bigots in our midst or indeed how to house them. We believe in being open for business and selling arms to religious maniacs because what they do with what we make is quite obviously their affair and nothing to do with us. We eschew madcap conspiracy theories, and we stick up for our friends, remaining right behind them until they fail. Only then do we engage in an entirely healthy feeding frenzy in order to take over their jobs.
And that’s what I ask of all you true-blue Conservatives out there over the next four days. I know you’re not the type to march and shout vulgar slogans at Anna Soubry and carry silly placards around. But we all have a local rentathug who can be relied upon to beat your local MP to a pulp if necessary. I know I can rely upon your support.