BRUSSELS Bureaucrat: “If Britain Brexits us we’ll boil its bunny.” No, no one said that, but given the results of the EU elections I’m pretty sure that’s what some high powered European Parliament bureaucrat is thinking right now; bitterly pondering the Brexit Party’s success as he visits a Brussels brothel and orders the Geri lookalike in her Union Jack outfit, and proceeds to bend her over and give it to her in her Belfast backstop.
Or, depending on his proclivities, maybe he’s in a different type of establishment, deciding whether he’ll get the lad of his choice to wear a Nigel Farage mask, (or a TR one), as he gives him a good spanking and a strawberry milk-shaking.
No doubt though, Nigel is only bathing in champagne these days, because on this side of the Chunnel there’s plenty of celebrations going down. Still, like the rest of us peasants, I have no idea what the ramifications of a real Brexit will be. I can barely balance my bank account, so I’m hardly an authority on world economics.
As for the Northern Ireland deal, it sounds like an Irish joke — who knew it would hold the keys to the Kingdom! I do know, courtesy of Brussels based news site Politico, that, “Brexit puts penguins in peril.” If only the people had been told that before the referendum; I’m sure all of those who had seen Happy Feet would have voted to remain. The fisheries debacle makes me frightened for Nemo now too. The fact that he’s a clownfish seems apt.
I was wishing that someone would write a Brexit For Dummies — it turns out they have! But then again we plebs aren’t meant to understand the financial shenanigans. That’s the brilliance of the Brussels plan, in collaboration with the Vichy Government — whoops, I meant the British government! Make it sound so complicated to the general public that we’ll give up, roll over and let them have their way with us again. But at this point, anyone with eyes can see that the European Union is acting like a jilted gigolo. Though they sound good, like a Tinder dream match: “I could be your rich, sophisticated Continental lover. I’ll take you sunbathing in Saint-Tropez, then skiing in St. Moritz. Move into my mansion, ma chérie, and I’ll manage all our affairs.”
Sounds seductive. You’d swipe right for this single’s market, until you realise that the drawback of someone managing everything is — that they manage everything. Furthermore, exotic travels sound smashing when you’re soaking up the sun in Ibiza, not so smashing when exotic travellers come knocking at your door.
And then to top it all off, you hear what your sophisticated suitor did to their ex. Almost three years after the breakup and still they’re refusing to give the British a divorce, or at least an amicable one.
Sounds like time for a restraining order. Like any family breakdown (where your family consists of 28 odd relatives who spend most of their time bickering in different languages) Brexit could go easy or hard. Easy if the parties involved treat each other fairly for the sake of the kids. Hard if one of them holds all the cards and is hell bent on screwing over the other.
At this point the British are so fed up, that even if the Belgian wafflers tried to lure the UK back with some blood diamonds, even some europhiles might choose to walk away.
If attempting to go it alone, all goes horribly wrong; die-hard Remainers will say I told you so. But they forget that it was the EU’s choice to act like a demented stalker, rather than moving on gracefully. Furthermore, in their zeal to exact revenge on their mutinous charges, the Brussels Bureaucrats are punishing both the Leavers AND the Remainers. Kind of like smacking both your kids when only one was naughty.
But just when Britons had just about given up hope on freeing themselves, Farage turned up with his Brexiteers to storm the fortress. Let’s see if they can now deliver on the dream.