Les folies de Brexit #3






Grominic de Vious

First of all, I’d like to say just how disgusted and infuriated I am by the treatment of my close colleague and co-conspirator Anne Soubry. To see in my lifetime a bunch of underclass oiks being given airtime on the BBC to insult this wonderful lady – whose only crime has been to support me in my task of putting right an utterly peabrained decision by nasty unwashed bigots in a referendum they should never have been offered – is quite astonishing, and not a little worrying.

Thank goodness John Bercow has spoken out against this calumny; but then, being the Speaker, that’s his job. I am a lawyer and a privy councillor and I know more about such things than idiot Leavers who want our beloved Britain to commit suicide by leaving the good ship Eutanic as it steams forward unstoppably through the ice-pack of this inexorably global world en route to a United States of Europe in which never again will we be held to ransom by uppity pensioners and knuckle-dragging people from Blackpool, because the stout burghers of Brussels understand perfectly well that if you ask the public for its opinion, they merely engage in a lot of truculent disobedience.

And it is my beloved Britain every bit as much as theirs. These closet BNP maggots love to cast doubts upon my loyalty, but let me tell you that my forebears came here in 1066, and we shall not rest until all four bears are lying in State inside Westminster Abbey along with the greatest reformer of all time, Guillaume le Conquéreur….the first man to dream of a united Europe some 850 years before the much misunderstood Austrian visionary Herr Hitler had a similar idea.

Those against me say I am not really British. Poppycock. I may have had a mother called Evelyn Raymonde Louise Mijouain and been educated at the Charles de Gaulle Lycée, and I may be a bilingual broadcaster in France on what a disaster Brexit would be, but I have my finger firmly on the pulse of British public opinion. I may have continued my education at Westminster School and Magdalen College, Oxford but I speak most days with my perfectly representative parishioners in Beaconsfield, and I think my 25,423 majority speaks for itself in a constituency that last time out gave UKIP 1,609 votes, thus demonstrating their unshakeable common sense.

Now it has also been said that I look down upon the electorate and regard them as dim. This is quite inaccurate. I do not, for example, regard those born north of Banbury as dim. Rather, one thinks of them as owning heads inside which there is only total darkness. They all have Anglo-Saxon roots betrayed by names like Butterworth, Ainscough, Carver, Bickerdike, Clough, Lumleigh, Postlethwaite and so forth. 950 years on, they’re still disputing the verdict of an arrow in the eye at Hastings. Whereas we devotees of a Federal Europe are on the ball at the first sign of trouble: Brexit hasn’t even happened yet, but in under 950 days we have used our superior intellect (unsullied by fascist populism) to stop it dead. That, I think we can all agree, is what leadership is really about.

Others insist that I have selfishly muddied the waters of the Brexit process, such that ordinary citizens no longer have the foggiest idea what’s going on. Well, that’s ordinary citizens for you – see previous paragraph and for heaven’s sake pay attention, I haven’t got all night: the clock is ticking and must not be run down by silly Prime Ministers careering all over the place without so much as a driving licence or any petrol  in the bally tank.

I have been utterly consistent throughout. During the referendum campaign, I warned that a vote to Leave would collapse the stock market and push the economy into recession. Within a month of the Referendum I said we should respect the result but justify a Second Referendum. The idea that I of all people have made this process complex is just more media bias whipped up by Far Right agitators with names like Baxendale or Hinchcliffe.

The situation going forward could not be simpler. Mrs May wants to pass one thing divided first of all into two: a legally binding Withdrawal Treaty on the terms of Britain’s departure from the EU, and a non-binding Political Declaration setting out hopes for the future relationship after Brexit. Thus the Withdrawal Treaty is the equivalent of what you thought a Leave vote would be before the referendum, whereas the Political Declaration is the equivalent of what happened after the vote went the wrong way.

Mrs May will be defeated and then has 48 hours to come up with an alternative. In the middle of this, it is possible but not necessarily probable and certainly not certain that the Labour Leader will call for a vote of No Confidence in either Mrs May or the Government, but either way she can  return to the EU to try and make her deal more attractive to MPs (again) challenge MPs to unite around an alternative to her deal (again) threaten MPs with a no-deal Brexit (which we have already ruled out) or ask Brussels for a delay to the whole process (although they have said they won’t give her one, and frankly I don’t blame them, bloody ugly cow, I wouldn’t touch her with a bargepole).

What could be more straightforward than that? She tries to make No Deal look inevitable, so we make it impossible by freezing the Government’s ability to spend budgeted monies. She then resigns, there’s a general election and all’s well that ends well because that election will be a six-way dead heat and a State of Emergency will be called with a plea from Privy Councillors like me for the army to keep order while an EU-controlled British Government takes over in Brussels.

Thank you for your patience, your forbearance, your sacrifice, your inept apathy and your addiction to celebrity culture, which as always will see us through.


PS And don’t get me started on that bloody Mick prole Brendan O’Neill and his simplistic fantasies about A People’s Democracy: