At the End of the Day

 Oh dear, another five days pour down the Brexit brain-drain as May and Juncker are “locked in deadlock” in Brussels. She’ll be back home again tomorrow – a Friday. Then we shall have a weekend. Then some form of St Valentine’s Day love-in will take place. Then the half-term recess. In this manner is Brexit wished away.

‘Locked in deadlock’ could well be interpreted as two thespians agreeing violently for the enjoyment of the audience. Part of me thinks that – but a larger slice of my now really terribly bored brain somehow knows that (as I posted last night) the Brussels strategy was always to delay, to give Britain homework to delay further, to stonewall, to find an issue that would be insoluble, and then to play Lady Bountiful by granting an extension to Article 50. The strategy of these appalling people never changes: it is an almost exact re-run of the Greek crisis….tempered purely by the fact that the UK never adopted the euro.

Following a No Deal Brexit, the EU would implode within a year at most.

May knows this. And Juncker knows that she knows this. And she knows that he knows that she knows this.

Just as Tsipras and his class in Greece did not want to leave (and Brussels sensed it) so now in 2019 Brussels knows that May and her Remainer Cabinet do not want to leave.

When one side knows the other side daren’t leave the table, the result will always be capitulation by that other side.

Jeremy Corbyn too wants wants No Deal off the table; he needn’t have bothered to ask, as the PM has no intention (along with 5 out of 6 MPs) of letting it get anywhere near the table. For the putting of it on the table would mean Brexit actually happening. And we can’t have that….oh dear me no, certainly not.

And yet, Corbyn hates the EU. He has always hated it: the Blairites know that he hates it, and Jeremy knows that they know, and the Blairites know that he knows that they know. Worse still, the Corbynistas know that Jeremy wants to leave. Even Tom Watson knows that Jeremy wants to leave. And Tom knows that the Corbynistas know that, and the Blairites know that he knows that, and Momentum knows that they all know that. And so between them, they can all force Mr Corbyn to pretend that he doesn’t want to leave.

Hence his apparent desire to have No Deal off the table.

We are all familiar these days with the concept of carbon dating, but I’d like if I may to introduce the cod science of Corbyn dating. This isn’t about a website dedicated to the idea of having a date with Corbyn (although I’m sure there’s nothing he’d like better) but rather an attempt to try and establish a little more clearly that period in which the Labour leader would feel most at home.

My gut feeling about this is that St Jeremy of Camden should have been born just about the time Charles I was losing his head, sufficient for him to become, in early old age, a Restoration Radical.

All the best bits would be there for Jezzer: lots of Moll Flanders with great big rosey apples, a braindead Monarch ripe for the picking, and a carefully protected secret desire to one day in the future join the Parisian sans culottes in storming the Bastille….symbol of the Divine Right of a family of biscuits to rule.

So in this present epoch where there is a Napoleonic power across the Channel, what does Jeremy Corbyn want to do?

Well, he says he wants a Permanent Customs Union with the very Union he hates.

And guess what? At the end of today’s little fracas, Donald ‘Hell’ Tusk told Theresa May that only Corby’s PCU could get negotiations reopened. Those being, by the way, the same withdrawal negotiations that must remain closed.

The Brussels cabal really are a shower of shit. But Corbyn is not far behind. The hypocrites of the European Commission and the Labour Left thoroughly deserve each other. After all, federalists and collectivists all want the same thing: Big All-Knowing State looking down upon the know-nothing worker ants below.

But Tusk knows that the UK Parliament would never buy a PCU. And Theresa May knows that he knows that. And Tusk knows that May knows that he knows that.

So nothing at all moves forward. Leo Varadkar of Ireland knows that. He joked with Tusk about how his outburst would go down badly with Britain.

“Ha-ha,” said Leo, “Ah well, it all adds to the fun”.

The Irish Taoiseach’s popularity rating has fallen by 10 points to a record low of late. He who laughs last, as they say, laughs longest.