Haas, why is brekkers late?
Waitress has a Brexit hangover, pe’al.
What, that new Olympic sport that Nigel Farage won a gold medal in yesterday?
Ah fink it’s to do wif that vote they had the other day.
Oh, that one. The one where 17,410742 people decided for the other 48,689,258 in Britain that the country wants to go back to 2oth century isolationism and 19th century nation-state politics. That one?
Yes, mah clever pe’al.
The one where 16,141,241 of the 48,689,258 turned out to say no. The one where the very people whose future it concerns, 16 and 17 year olds were left out, even though they have to live with it the longest, and are overwhelmingly in favour of remaining. The one where the old farts were too lazy to check their facts and voted with her underbellies. That one?
The one where Farage said the EU costs the UK £350 a week and pledged to take it back for the NHS, only to say a day after the vote that people who voted Leave on the basis of that pledge made a mistake, because it’s not going to go to the NHS. That one?
The one where David Cameron emerged bleary eyed after the markets had already opened – how thoughtful of him – to show the deep scratches in his Teflon coating and resign. That one?
The one where-
Pe’al. Fluff o’ mah ‘eart. Ah’ve ‘eard enuff, yeah? Ah know. Le”s be nice to da wai’ress, yeah? She need a cuddle, mefinks. Looks da worse fer wear terday. Ah’ll sor’ i’ aht, da whole Brexi’ mess, orrite? Honessly, fings will be fine. Promise.
Come ‘ere, mah bundle o’fluff…
The cockney Cornish Pirate is back, isn’t he?
Yeah, pe’al. Ahm regressin’ in mah old age.