So now we know how things are going to develop over the next few months. I have had it all explained to me by the BBC. Here’s a summary:
Monday: The PM, using the 1295 Reversal of Cogitation Act, declares brexit a no-go zone, issues a D-notice and goes on holiday to St Tropez with Jeremy Clarkson
Tuesday: O Jeremy C falls off his bike, hits his head on the curb, and undergoes a Damascene conversion to New Labour and books himself in for plastic surgery so that he looks like Blair. He is heard shouting “NOW bring on the election!
Wednesday: Parliament recalled. 384 MP’s claim air traffic control strikes, leaves on the line, the dog ate my order papers and refuse to break their holidays. Recall cancelled. PM turns over and calls for another pina colada
Thursday: Under clause 327 (b) (iii) subsection 10 (d) (iv) of the Parliamentary Behaviour Act of 1927, Mister Speaker issues a stern statement describing all MP’s as rotten cads. Stages a sit-in on the Speaker’s Chair in an empty HOC
Friday: MP’s remember that they have to be in London to get expenses, and come back. Hilary Benn and others table a House Business Motion, which is amended by a Motion to Amend a Motion which amends an Emergency Motion, which might or might not comply with House Rule 76 (e) viii) as amended, provided that it is tabled by no later than midnight, and has the support of, oh, lots of people
Saturday: The House votes on a no-confidence-in-the Government motion tabled by Tony Blair. The vote is tied, Neither the Ayes nor the Noes have it. Mister Speaker has hysterics and refuses to have anything to do with it. The PM describes the outcome as a, you know, whaaah, whaaa, I … I … I mean a major victory for something or other.
Sunday: The PM calls a general election, but fails to realise that the date he wants is the same as the supposed date for leaving the EU. He cancels the election. Yvette Cooper tables a motion of no confidence in absolutely everything. The BBC asks the chief political correspondent to explain what’s going on. He refuses on grounds of ennui. John Humphrys is fired for saying “fucked if I know.”
Monday again: The PM, the Speaker, Black Rod, the Sergeant At Arms all lose votes of confidence. Someone tells the defeated PM that he must now give O Jeremy Blair fourteen days to form a government. Nigel Farage riots in the street.
Tuesday: Johnson receives a message from “president” trump. “Tweet chirp twert pneep phnarp blarp blap gorp grak blap great guy great guy whap whoop,” he blatts. Johnson says “Yah, yah, good idea”. So he does that.
Wednesday once more: Tony O’Corbyn accepts the challenge and moves his toothbrush into 10 Downing Street as temporary PM. His prosthetic smile falls off. He can’t form a government, an opinion or a view. The Queen calls on Kenneth Clarke to step in. He is too busy with lunch. Parliament seizes control of House business. Harriett Harman says, “Now what?”
Thursday yet again: Johnson agrees to try again, but remembers that he has forgotten what brexit was about. The new President of the EU Commission reminds him. “Wha-a-a-a-a-a-t????” he says. I … I … I …whaaa, whaaa, I didn’t. I wasn’t, I phwaaar, wouldn’t. Would I? Did I? He undertakes to revoke Article 50. After all, he remembers, the whole thing was about getting into Downing Street, so he’ll do anything to stay there.
Thank God it’s Friday again: Britain sinks gratefully into torpor. There’s a government. There’s a PM. Nigel Farage has a fag and a pint and riots slightly again. All’s well.