I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too

An early post for Brexit Day as I’ve got a chocca full day’s graft from first light tomorrow. 

Of course, England has been here before. The EU (that’s the Pope and the whole of Catholic Europe) excommunicated Queen Elizabeth and barred all trade with us; not even a WTO-terms deal, only a bit of state-sanctioned piracy and smuggling kept us going. In reaction we went further afield to find new trade partners and accidentally founded the British Empire, established dominance of the seas and oceans and led the world in trade and commerce. They did us a favour, really.  

Anyway, if you fancy a rollocking good yarn with your celebratory tipple on B-day, rent Cate Blanchett’s Elizabeth – The Golden Age; it’s really rather appropriate.

Theresa May reads the draft of the Article 50 letter one last time before it is carried to Brussels. This is it!

In Brussels, Herr Juncker and Commissioner Mogherini discuss their reaction to the notification

PM May has a problem – half the country are still Remainians, committed to the ‘old ways’ and the sinister Tim Farron is doing his best to sow dissent in the realm

The Labour Party NEC meets to discuss the implications of Brexit. Mr Corbyn is misplaced and found later in a store cupboard. 

Meanwhile Brexit Secretary David Davis sets out to ‘singe the King of Brussel’s beard’ before negotiations start, and is ably partnered by …

Boris ‘spuds and tobacco’ Johnson, just back from exploring Washington and meeting Mr Trump, the chief of the indiginous tribes in the New World

At home Nicola Sturgeon, Queen of Scots, is caught by GCHQ plotting with Remainians to betray Brexit. ‘We know the contents of every secret letter you sent’ the head of MI5 tells her.

Herr Juncker’s chief negotiator, Herr Barnier and Herr Verhofstadt discuss destroying the British negotiating position ‘We vill crush dem and stomp dem into ze eart! No trade deal for dem!’

Mrs May makes her final speech to Conservative Party Conference before the climax of the Brexit talks






The EU main negotiating team arrives, stunning the Brits by the size and scale ‘Crikey!’ exclaims Boris, and takes up smoking again, thanking providence he remembered to bring tobacco back from his US trip.

That night, Mrs May smells smoke and wakes to see the entire EU negotiating team on fire. She summons Boris, but he’s nowhere to be found

Herr Juncker and the Commissioners have to explain to Europe that they’ve screwed up, and that all their homework got burnt in an accidental cigarette fire; Britain wins the talks

Boris turns up from the direction of the ashes of the EU team clutching a baked potato ‘You see I knew there was a reason I brought these back from the new world; just the thing to keep you going when you’re looking for a dropped fag ..’