“So,” said Pooh, scanning the assembled animals who had joined his Brexit Delivery Group under the misapprehension that there would be free biscuits and tea, “Following the Downing Street Coup, we have been given the onerous task of delivering Brexit to a weary and divided nation.”
“Point of order,” said Eeyore, “Only faux academics, BBC journalists and snowflakes start all their sentences with ‘so’, and if that was the imperial ‘we’ you were using, I’d quite like you to stop it now.”
“What happened to the PM?” asked Kanga. “I only ask in a spirit of sisterly concern. And before you pull me up on inappropriate sibling terminology, Eeyore, I heard you call Tigger a visually-impaired little bouncing bastard yesterday when he flattened your thistles!”
“No-one knows,” said Pooh, “Last seen on her knees hammering on Verhofstadt’s door with her kitten heels, peering through the letter box and begging for another extension. I understand the Speaker was sold off to an intra-species dining club as an entrée, and the rest of the remainers in the Cabinet are rumoured to be either respirationally-challenged or locationally-disadvantaged. Just a calling card left in each office with “Compliments of the Puffin Patriots” in red, white and blue copperplate lettering.”
“How come we’ve ended up with the job then?” asked Owl.
“No-one else volunteered,” said Pooh, “Jeremy Corbyn had his throat torn out by Seamus Milne when he screwed up his questions yet again at PMQs, Vince Cable’s formaldehyde chaser ignited as he was reading the comments on the Going Postal site, and Gina Miller toppled off Beachy Head when going for yet another photo-call wearing inadvisably vertiginous heels in a Force 9 gale. Jolyon Maugham and AC Grayling shot each other in a duel over an argument as to the correct pronunciation of quinoa. Andrew Adonis made the mistake of visiting the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles and shattered the lot – swept up with the shards and dumped in a recycling bin – it’s what he would have wanted. Heseltine was savaged by a rabid Chihuahua and Ken Clarke was kidnapped by a troupe of gerontophiliac transvestites. They’re calling it the Curse of the Enemies of Brexit.”
“Well, we’d better get it right then,” said Owl, “Because I had this card delivered today, addressed to us. It’s from the Puffins again”.
“What does it say?” asked Pooh.
“Just Get Out”, said Owl.
© Madam Revenant 2019
The Goodnight Vienna Audio file