The worrying reality of Brexit - it may actually never end
So here we are then, squinting our eyes, trying desperately to scan the consuming black dark for the thin rays of light to guide us out of all that is Brexit, now the artist formerly known as Brexit.
Britain's stormy, jilted-lover 'don't you dare follow me outside, I'm going, honestly, for good' exit from the European Union had long been marked on the calendars for March 29. Yesterday, presumably because absolutely nobody has any fucking clue what exactly is going on at this point, some 723 (seven! hundred! and twenty! three!) days after Britain voted to leave the EU, that date was postponed.
Now
Britain has an unconditional extension until April 12. Hooray. Just like a Marvel film the show isn't quite over yet. Hang around for the post-credit scenes. Maybe you'll see a cat vomit out the tesseract, maybe you'll see Theresa May get on all fours, cling to Donald Tusk's ankles like a wetsuit that's two sizes too small and beg that she'll change, that she'll do better, that it won't be like the first time or even the first several times.
An EU official was asked what exactly happened in Brussels on Thursday. According to reports, the 27 European Union leaders asked May what her alternative course of action was if her deal was, shock, gasp, voted down in parliament (again). It's a likely scenario given her past two efforts to get her deal pushed through. You know, the ones that ended in near historical failure.
They're not exactly asking what she's got in the tank for Ragnorak, should it occur before next week and the primordial monsters attacking our world temporarily derail all parliamentary proceedings bar John Bercow shouting "Order! Order!" over and over again at the beasts from hell like the only Norse god left to save us.
The prime minister, so resilient in her incompetence by this point she wears it like ABBA wore spandex, replied that she was simply dedicated to following through on her 'Plan A'. It's the kind of response that you might accept from a child pondering their future, imagining a potential career of 'just, I dunno, being a dinosaur' because they like dinosaurs, not yet concerning themselves with the harsh reality that just being a dinosaur might not pay off the mortgage. As the leader of the United Kingdom, the complete disregard for a contingency plan is staggering.
According to the official the EU then took it upon themselves to "come up with a plan for her", a sentence so damning it has now made this entire island sink back into the murky depths of the Atlantic ocean in embarrassment like Homer Simpson retracting back into his garden hedge, like a testicle in the cold, never to be seen of or heard from again.
Another
EU source confirmed the leadership horrorshow, stating that similar to a Jose Mourinho away leg in the Champions League "it was 90 minutes of nothing".
"She didn’t even give clarity if she is organising a vote. Asked three times what she would do if she lost the vote, she couldn’t say. It was fucking awful. Dreadful. Evasive even by her standards," they added.
https://twitter.com/nick_gutteridge/status/1108830556178079750
To summarise, "12 April is the new 29 March", Theresa May doesn't have a plan B if her deal isn't passed by the House of Commons even though this situation categorically requires that she, like, should, should definitely have a plan B, and a special team has been deployed into a bunker under the Ministry of Defence to eat tins of beans and finally work out what the ending to
The Sopranos actually meant.
Brexit means Brexit. And Brexit, it seems, means nothing.
https://twitter.com/SkyNewsBreak/status/1108779699931660288
