by Hilarious Weber-Wild
Hilarious grew up in a bad part of South London where, because of his silly name, he had to learn to run fast at a very early age. He often sought refuge in the local library, somewhere he could be sure his knuckle-dragging pursuers would never go. And it was there he developed a passion for reading, writing and Miss Peabody, the local librarian. Today, Hilarious is a freelance writer.
Dear Monsieur Barnier, or may I call you Mickey?,
I am writing this letter by candlelight in my panic room under the stairs in Number 10 Downing Street. I feel safe here. I can’t trust anyone you see.
What a few weeks it’s been Mickey! Boris Johnson- you know the ambitious fat chap with hair that looks like something a cat coughed up- he’s resigned to spend more time with his ego. And Brexit Secretary David Davis, who couldn’t negotiate his way out of a wet paper bag, he’s gone too. I understand he’s now working as a speed bump in Manchester, a job that better suits his talents. And then we had a visit from the highly offensive, gas-filled, orange “Trump Baby”, and there was also a protest balloon that floated over London.
As you may know Mickey, I wanted to remain in the EU not only for political reasons, but because my least favourite aunt- the one who smells of mushrooms- moved to Spain and I want her to stay there. Oh Mickey, if only we’d had the right questions on the referendum ballot paper, something like “Would you like the UK to remain in the EU? Or would you like it to be really freakin stupid?”, it could all have been so very different.
But now I have to try and please everyone. Those beastly Brexiteers want to bring back the British Empire and live in a Downton Abbey fantasy world where stiff upper lips are obligatory, women and poor people know their place, and where casual racism is served up with the after-dinner port and cigars. On the other side we have the Remainers, members of the liberal elite, who fear losing their holiday homes in Tuscany and their Polish nannies and builders, and who sneer at the stupidity of the unwashed proletariat. Caught in the middle are the vast majority of people who are both bored and bemused by Brexit.
So I had to come up with a plan to make it seem like I was friends with everyone and in control. Part one of the plan was to have a meaningless slogan. My first thought was “Moving Forward, Looking Back”, but then someone pointed out that you could quite easily fall over a cliff doing that. Then I came up with “Beanz meanz Heinz”, but that was too meaningful and sounded too German. Finally, I settled on “Brexit means Brexit”. Job done I thought. Part two of the plan was that England would win the World Cup and everyone would go crazy and forget about how bad things are. So that didn’t work obviously!
So now I am in a bit of a pickle and I desperately need your help. I have come up with a new five-point plan that I think will be acceptable to the UK and the European Union. I shared it with Angie Merkel during our recent chat and she said it was “unglaublich”. I checked on Google translate and it apparently means “unbelievable”, which is a good thing, right? Anyway, here it is.
- Let us have our cake and eat yours.
- Rename the European Union as Greater Britannia. That way everyone will get a British passport and we can keep free movement of people.
- As all goods, services and capital will then technically be within Greater Britannia that solves all those issues.
- Start playing cricket. We don’t win at football anymore and we like to feel special.
- Still working on this point
I think it will work. What do you think?