Inside the Brexit Bunker

I don't know about you, but I spent my weekend preparing my Brexit Bunker.  Believe me, it is time well spent.  We all need to be prepared for the disaster of a 'No Deal' Brexit as it edges ever closer.  We all know that May's Brexit deal is going to be rejected by parliament, she'll refuse to have a second referendum and the foaming at the mouth Brextremists like Boris Johnson, Jacob Rees Mogg and Andrea Leadsom will succeed in pushing us all over the edge into the 'No Deal' scenario.  So, when all flights to and from Europe are suspended, medical supplies become unobtainable and the lorries trying to get across the channel at Dover are backed up as far as Maidenhead, I'll be safe in my Brexit Bunker, enjoying all that food and medicines I've been stockpiling down there.  When I say 'down there', it implies I've converted my cellar into the Brexit Bunker.  Except, of course, that this house has never had a cellar.  But I didn't let that deter me - I lifted the floor boards in the front room and excavated downwards.  It has taken a few months and disposing of the earth I've dug out hasn't been easy - there's a pile of it in the back garden so high that it is blocking the light to my sitting room window - but it has been worth it. 

As I've already mentioned, I've stocked the bunker full of good British stuff like tinned Bully Beef, Cadbury's Smash, Fray Bentos pies and packets of Bisto.  I don't actually intend eating the latter.  I instead intend to use the red hot gravy like boiling oil and pour it from the bedroom windows over marauding Brexiteers who approach my house in search of supplies, post-Brexit,  Because we all know that they are the ones who won't have prepared, so confident are they that a 'No Deal' Brexit will be a huge success.  I've also adapted the letter box in the front door so that I can fire both barrels of a sawn off shotgun through it if the gravy fails to deter the Brexiteers when they stumble up, zombie-like, mumbling 'Brexit, we want our Brexit'.  Mind you, the usual anti-zombie advice of 'Shoot them in the head' obviously doesn't apply to Brexiteers as they don't have any brains to blow out.

Of course,right now Theresa May is hunkering down in her own version of a 'Bexit Bunker', recalling the last days of the Third Reich, as she barks out orders to ministers who no longer serve, having all resigned, with those remaining too scared to tell her that nobody in the outside world is listening.  Not that I'm likening May to Hitler and the Tories to the Nazi Party, but there's no doubt that the air of desperation which surrounds failing regimes on the brink of collapse now surrounds this government.  I would liken it to the fall pf the Roman Empire, but that took place over the curse of several centuries - a long slow decline culminating in a catastrophic collapse of order.  In truth, for those of us working in the public sector, the coalition years felt like living through the fall of Rome.  But things have now accelerated and we've jumped scenarios to Berlin 1945.  Still, despite impending doom and an inevitable political crisis, it is good to know that the standards of parliamentary debate remain so high.  Not only have we been treated to Tory MP Nicholas 'Fatty' Soames calling a Brexit supporting colleague a 'Twerp' during a Commons debate, we also had some unidentified MP audibly shout 'You're talking Cobblers' at arch Brexiteer Tory MP Peter Bone(head) in the House.  Both statements are, of course, true, but one somehow expects a higher standard of insult in the House of Commons.