Woe and thrice woe!

So, following a catastrophic, dead-end, crashing-out, cliff edge no-deal, Billy-no-mates Brexit... what then? Will bodies line the roads? Will rickety-legged children hobble on their crutches to sell matches in the dim-lit, cobbled streets of London? Will pestilence rise up and take the halt and the sick? And will dark predators roam the alleys looking to sell the last few healthy infants into slavery in Africa?

Under the listless, sickly sun of perpetual winter, the drizzle of acid rain will slowly erode the steel structures of modernity and revert Britain to a nation of medieval hovel-dwellers, preferably with pungent animal dung as the primary building material. After all, it’s what they deserve, those who dared to dream of freedom. They didn’t have a plan to leave. They didn’t know what voting for Brexit would mean. They have brought us down; they have killed Britannia.

This is the remainers’ wet dream, a world of ruin and defeat, of squalor and hopelessness and all because of Brexit. They repeatedly told us we voted to destroy our children’s future, and come April they are damn well determined to be proven right. So instead of accepting the reality, which is that Brexit will touch few lives with any great significance and some lives in minor ways, for most people it will be no worse than changing jobs, moving house, going through puberty, getting married, or simply having to accept a new form for submitting your expenses.

The everyday lives of probably over 95% of the population will not change at all. But there will be some significant changes. Those who dared – despite the beatings – to vote to leave will be more determined than ever to make a go of it. Some will really prosper, but all will feel a sense of pride, of belonging, of ownership of the country once again. Brexit isn’t a setback, it’s an opportunity. The EU doesn’t want to play? We’ll change the game; it’s our ball, after all and we can put our goalposts down wherever we wish.

No deal is pretty much assured...

Remainers will watch, miserable, from the side-lines, as plucky little Britons do what we have always done – mustn’t grumble, make the best of it and crack on. In time the majority will convert, or at least shrug and realise there is no point in their futile rejection of facts – actual facts, not the imagined facts they tout today. And in the end those who will not accept the democratic will of the majority will wither away, leave or retreat into obscurity. Do this right and we will leave the EU, we will also leave behind the whiny bitches of Remain.