IF you actually stop and think about it for a moment, there’s no point shouting at our MPs over this Brexit debacle because there’s absolutely nothing they can do.
There’s absolutely nothing anyone can do.
I watched the issue being debated in the Commons and it very quickly became clear it wasn’t a debate at all.
It was just a group of 650 people who’d already made up their minds taking it in turns to say why.
That’s as pointless as putting James May and me in a room to argue about which was the best World War Two fighter.
He thinks it’s the Hurricane. I think it’s the Spitfire. And neither of us is going to shift. Ever.
So here we are. We cannot do a reasonable deal with Europe because our No Deal bargaining chip has been taken away.
The Prime Minister can’t do anything meaningful because he doesn’t command a majority. And he isn’t even allowed to call a General Election.
I understand why Remainers are doing everything in their power to delay our departure from the EU for as long as possible. And I understand why this is making Brexiteers so furious.
Me? I’ve reached the point where I’m past caring. I just want something to happen and so long as Corbyn is kept out of No 10 Downing Street, I don’t really care what.
Sadly, the only way forward is to crawl across the Channel on our hands and knees and literally beg for a deadline extension to next February. Or June. Or the year 3086.
And then what? Europe will either offer us the same deal that’s already been rejected by Parliament three times or they will offer us something worse.
We are — and there’s no other word for it — f***ed.
Right up to the moment when there is a General Election Corbyn will win.
And then we will come to know what being f***ed really means.
To prevent that, we must do what any right-thinking person does in a time of real emergency and turn for guidance to the US soap opera Dallas.
You see, back in 1985, the American actor Patrick Duffy went on a bit of an ego trip.
He’d been the Man From Atlantis and Bobby Ewing in Dallas. He’d even recorded a song that reached No 5 in the Dutch hit parade.
So he obviously figured the world was his oyster and he’d be the new Al Pacino.
It didn’t work out well. The only role he got was as a goat in a TV movie no one watched, so he decided the following year that he’d like to go back to Dallas, the show that made his name.
So in order to accommodate his wishes, the scriptwriters decided his death — and every single thing that happened in the 12 subsequent months — had been a dream.
And guess what?
We bought it. We all turned to one another in our lounges and our sitting rooms and said: “Yup, that seems reasonable.”
So this is what I suggest.
On Monday morning, David Cameron walks out of Downing Street and says that, having considered all the options, he is NOT going to call a referendum.
And if anyone says, “Hang on a minute, what about Article 50 and Theresa May and the last election?”, we just say: “Nah, mate, you must have been dreaming.”
Brigade fired up by toys
YOU must have noticed that ever since the fire brigade were given those huge pliers that can cut the roof off a car, they always, always, ALWAYS cut the roof off any car that’s been in an accident.
“We must, in case one of the occupants has a broken back,” they always say.
Yes – but once, a couple who’d been completely uninjured in a minor traffic accident were invited by Plod to shelter from the drizzle in the police car.
When the fire brigade arrived – and I’m not making this up – they cut the roof off the police car so the couple could get out again. And it seems they have the same problem in America.
Because this week, the comedian Kevin Hart was a passenger in his exquisite and very rare Plymouth Barracuda when it crashed.
Fire crews could have pulled him out through the door, so the car could then be repaired.
But no. They cut the roof off, so now it can’t.
Yup. Kevin will get better soon but his ’Cuda has gone to the great muscle-car graveyard in the sky.
MORE evidence that mankind is losing the capacity for reasoned thought came this week when a bunch of “trans-feminist anti-speciesists”
broke into a chicken farm and separated the hens from the cockerel so “they couldn’t be raped”.
Meanwhile, in Syria . . .
Squeezy does it
VISITORS to a new exhibition at the very traditional Royal Academy will find the only door is partially blocked by a naked man and a naked woman.
The only solution is to squeeze between them.
This begs many questions. But first up, this naked man.
He has to spend all day with no clothes on, face to face with an attractive naked woman while people brush past his parts.
I do hope he takes, um, precautions every morning. Or it is very likely he’ll become the world’s first human turnstile.
Weirdos’ woolly worries
WE had more proof this week that animal rights enthusiasts are not completely right in the head.
They tried to claim in an advert that wearing wool is just as cruel as wearing fur – forgetting, perhaps, that to make a woolly jumper, the sheep doesn’t actually have to be killed.
In fact, you HAVE to shear a sheep before the hot summer begins because very few breeds are capable of moulting by themselves.
If you’ve got all that wool lying around, what are you going to do? Throw it away and make a jumper out of . . . nylon?
Great idea. Because nylon is made from crude oil.
It’s basically like plastic. So we’d end up one day with lots of jumpers that won’t rot, floating around in the oceans choking turtles.
Happily, the Advertising Standards Authority told the idiotic animal rights people to think of a new ad.
Which means they’ll probably ask Naomi Campbell to climb off whatever piece of horrible Eurotrash she’s sitting on this week and get her kit off again.
She's not just nuts
THIS week, a pharmacist who posed as the mother of an 11-year-old boy so he could be circumcised without his parents’ consent was sentenced to 14 months, suspended for 18 months.
The judge described her as “arrogant”.
Hmm. Not sure about that.
I think if you take someone else’s child to the doctor and ask him to lop off half the kid’s penis, you’re not being arrogant.
You’re being deranged.
THERE have been some unusual breakthroughs in the world of cars this week.
Bugatti announced a specially modified Bugatti Chiron had become the first road-going car ever to break the 300mph barrier.
Even though there is no road in the world where you could physically reach such a speed.
Meanwhile, Nissan unveiled an app that allows you to see where your car is.
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Which is something Malaysia Airlines never thought of.
And which won’t go down very well with cheating spouses.
But Ford topped the lot by saying it can now fit a projector into the boot lid so that you can watch a movie in the cold and the rain.