A folk tale for unusual political times: The Three Little Brexiteers, by A Leaver.Once upon a time there were three little Brexiteers. Their names were Boris The Buffoon, Andrea The Pied Piper and Farage The Garage. They all lived, rather unhappily in a very very very big inn, called the Eur Inn, with their Mutti.
There were luxurious rooms in the house with chandeliers and ice buckets for champagne and there were tatty rooms with peeling wallpaper. Over a period of 40 years the people in the tatty rooms lost interest in their rooms. They didn’t see the point in decorating and they had no money so they crowded into the luxurious rooms and soon they all squabbled.They also didn’t like the way the Eur Inn was run. There were far too many rules and nobody understood what they meant.
The Three little Brexiteers had had enough. They went to see Mutti and said ‘we are not happy we want to leave the kingdom.
‘You want to leave the kingdom.’ Multi said going red from ear to ear, smoke coming out of her nostrils. ‘If you want to leave the kingdom you will need to order a census of my kingdom to find out what the carrot pickers of Boston think, what the fishermen of Whitby think and what the hedge fund managers of Hampstead think.
Now those three little Brexiteers were devious. They went out into the kingdom and spoke to the carrot pickers of Boston, the fishermen of Whitby and the hedge fund managers of Hampstead. Now those three little Brexiteers were devious Brexiteers and lied in order to win the vote.
Mutti was furious when the kingdom voted to leave the Eur Inn. Her face was red from ear to ear and smoke burned from her nostrils. ‘I will cast you out so that you can never ever sell your wares at market. Leave now.
The three little Brexiteers said ‘but Mutti we haven’t invoked article 50 yet.’ ‘Go’ she commanded. The three little Brexiters left immediately. The first little Brexiteer, Boris The Buffoon built his house next to a cricket pitch and put a Union Jack on the top and the third little Brexiteer Andrea Pied Piper built a house of sand on the beach because she was not very experienced in house building and she put a Union Jack on the top. The first little Brexiter Farage the Garage built his house of Tata Steel and employed Putin as his house elf and put a Union Jack on the top.
Now market day arrived and the three little Brexiteers took their wares and their cattle to market and made many sales. But word got back to Mutti and she was furious. Her face was red from ear to ear and smoke came out of her nose. She sent out a nameless, faceless official called Juncker The Plonker to huff and puff and blow their houses down. First he came to Boris The Buffoon’s house but Boris was ready, lurking behind his bus parked on the drive. He leapt out and bashed him on the head with his cricket bat. When he had recovered he went to the beach and came to the sand house of the second little Brexiteer. Andrea The Pied Piper was ready, lurking behind her gaggle of children. She leapt out and poured a bucket of water over him. When he had recovered he went to Farage The Garage’s house. Farage The Garage was ready, lurking at the bottom of the Tata steel chimney pot with Putin his house elf. The official climbed up and fell down the chimney into a massive barrel of London Pride. He was so inebriated he drowned and was never heard of again. Mutti gave in and allowed free access to all the best markets across the kingdom and life became fair for everybody.
I am an author of three books. All my books are a product of the political culture we live in. Donald Trump, Margaret Thatcher, Obama and others get a mention, not in very complimentary ways!
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