The end of the EU party - a Brexit parable
In the middle of the craziness this week, a Brexit Facts4EU.Org ‘feury tale’
@copy; Brexit Facts4EU.Org
Starring Donald Tansk, Jean-Claude Yucker, Mrs Maynot, and Borsi the Turk
Imagine the scene. We’re all at a gathering at a neighbour’s house which has been going on for a long time. The leader of our little group, a lady called Mrs Maynot approaches the main hosts. They are huddled together in a conclave in a rather grand pergola in the centre of the lawn.
“Mr Tansk, Mr Yucker. Thanks awfully, but we’ve just had a little pow-wow and we’ve decided we’re going to leave now.”
“I see. Well this is disappointing,” says Tansk, “but I suppose we have to respect your decision.”
“This will not be an amicable parting,” adds Yucker, through clenched teeth.
“And there will be a special place in hell for those in your little group who decided to leave,” says Tansk, somewhat menacingly.
“Yes, well, sorry you feel that way old chap, but you know we still want to stay good neighbours, and all that. Our party just thinks it’s time to go. Chin up, Tansk,” says our representative Mrs Maynot.
“Hmm,” replies Tansk. “Then I will await your formal letter saying you want to leave. Until then we can’t discuss your leaving arrangements.”
He turns to Yucker and whispers something in his ear. Yucker immediately stumbles off in the direction of the bar, and then on to the PA system which has been blaring out French ballads from the 1950s for the last few hours.
Mrs Maynot comes back over to the rest of us, waiting patiently near the children’s swings. “What did they say?” asks one of our group.
Before Mrs Maynot can answer, the music stops and a wild shriek comes from the PA system
The sound engineer (a tall white-haired chap called Barmzy) makes an adjustment and the feedback stops. All the invitees to the gathering stop and look around. Yucker is now standing next to the sound system, holding a microphone.
“Ladeez und gentlemen, I vant your attention,” says Yucker. “No-one is to talk to anyone from the group who came from the house over the stream to the north. They want to leave this gathering - ” (gasps from the assembled masses) “Yes, they want to leave and so we must all decide how we let them do that. You will receive your instructions once we have decided. Until then no-one is to talk to them. Now, friends, drink up and let the party continue!”
Eventually Mrs Maynot manages to batter out a letter on the old portable typewriter which she asked the babysitter (a chap called Ol’ Robber) to bring from our house. She then beetles off and gives the letter to Tansk, who is still in the centre of the lawn.
“Thank you Mrs Maynot, we’ll let you know the conditions of your departure from this gathering in due course,” says Tansk.
More time passes
Mrs Maynot is barely with us, as she is constantly being called over to the pergola. Each time she jumps to it and even sometimes gets up at 3am to do this. For a short period she sends one of our group, a senior chap with the unfortunate name of David Davy-Chortler, to have discussions. She lets him carry on, with his faithful servant Zeb Beaker, but then also quietly sends the babysitter, Ol' Robber, who seems to spend a great deal of time with the hosts.
Finally Mrs Maynot calls all of us together
“I know some of you have been waiting a long time to leave –“ (hollow laughter comes from the back) “but I have managed to secure us a deep and special departure from the gathering here tonight.”
“I really don’t see what took so long,” says Sir John of the Red Wood Shires. “I would have just told them we’re off, and to come and talk to us if they want us to keep buying their hedge-trimmers and tractors.”
Mrs Maybot glares at Sir John. “As I was saying, I have secured a deep and special relationship with our neighbours. It really will be strong and stable, and deep and special. And it will be a partnership. A deep and special one.” She hands out a hefty document to our group.
“It’s all in here, and I urge you all to nod this through. No point reading it really, as Ol’ Robber tells me it’s the best thing since sliced Tuscan truffles.”
Some time later our group has questions for Mrs Maynot
“This says they control almost everything we do,” barks Francois de Marque, a popular man of the people.
“And we carry on paying for the upkeep of their lawns and pergola,” adds Sir John of the Red Wood Shires.
“And they will decide our laws and taxes, and their courts will control this,” says Grandpa Cash.
“Good God, this even gives them part of our land,” interjects Owen Patthemdown.
After interminable discussions, it is agreed that perhaps Mrs Maynot and her babysitter Ol’ Robber, known for their proclivities to stay at parties long after it is wise so to do, should be replaced by Borsi the Turk.
Enter Borsi the Turk
Borsi immediately calls up his trusty charger, Come-the-Dom, and rides off to the pergola, where the hosts of the gathering are still having meetings. He returns a short while later.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Borsi asks us. Silence. “Oh come ON everyone, this is fun! Trust me, trust me. I know it looks a lot like Mrs Maynot’s surrender treaty, but it absolutely isn’t. I know you’ll back me. I can sell the Conservatives to Islington!”
“Will we actually be leaving this gathering tonight?” asks Zeb Beaker, who has recently become a leading light amongst the ‘Show Me The Way To Go Home, I’m Tired And I Want To Go To Bed’ group.
“Yes, my friends! Absolutely! Of course we can! Once we’ve signed this new treaty you can go back to the house and get a change of clothes. Then you come back and we party on! What do you say?”
Enter Mr Brexity Factsearcher
Amidst mutterings, the majority of our group reluctantly decides that its only hope of leaving - even if only to get a change of clothes - is to put up its hands. After a short delay for triumphant smiles from Borsi, at the very back of the group one hand goes up. It belongs to Mr Brexity Factsearcher, a staunch advocate of leaving the gathering as soon as possible.
“Er, Borsi.... It’s now a very long time since we decided to leave. Our hosts have decided the terms of our departure. There was nothing about this on the invitation to come here in the first place. Why on earth are we letting our hosts decide on what terms we leave this gathering?
“Why do we have to pay an exit fee to Tansk and Yucker? Why are we still going to pay to cut their lawns, trim their hedges, and fund their new security guards? Why are we allowing them to continue to pass laws governing what we do? And why don’t we even have a say on this? Why can’t we agree new terms to trade with other towns outside this ever-smaller community? Why can’t we decide how to make the products we sell to other towns, and make these products better? Why can’t we fish in our stream? Why do we have to be part of their new defence and security system? Why do we still have to let all of them into our property without any say? And finally, why do we have to give up part of our land?”
“I’m just curious what the last three-and-half-years has been for.”
And the moral of this story is:
Never let your neighbours park Tansk on your lawn
A departure from our usual output, yes. We hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.
It’s our view that even if a new treaty is agreed with the EU – even if this will take longer than the 15 days left (and only three days before the Commons votes on Saturday) – it will be a fudge and a sell-out.
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Brexit Facts4EU.Org, 16 Oct 2019
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