The Twelve Days Of Brexit

On the first day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
A tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the second day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the third day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the fourth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the fifth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the sixth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the seventh day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the eighth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the ninth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Nine mothers crying,
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the tenth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Ten lords a-leaving,
Nine mothers crying,
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the eleventh day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Eleven paupers homeless,
Ten lords a-leaving,
Nine mothers crying,
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the twelfth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Twelve Tories humming,
Eleven paupers homeless,
Ten lords a-leaving,
Nine mothers crying,
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

Theresa May's Brexit plan: No but yeah but

When Theresa May met Vicky Pollard ...

Mrs May, it’s been weeks now and we still haven’t seen your Brexit plan.

No but because what happened was was I was going round Liam’s but then this whole fing happened right because Amber Rudd who’s a bitch anyway has been completely going around saying that Justine stole some money out of Esther’s purse but I ain’t never not even some to Justine ‘cause she spat in Edwina’s hair.

Mrs May, when will we see the Brexit plan?

Yeah because but what happened was was this whole fing happened what I don’t even know anyfin about because Boris Johnson has been going around saying that David’s brother smells of mud but I ain’t so shab never even not even stole no car so shab.

Mrs May, have you even started this plan?

No but yeah but yeah but yeah no but yeah no but yeah but no because I’m not even going to Europe because Liam reckons they smell of garlic.

You know if we don’t get the plan by the end of this Parliament you do know it will be a disaster for the UK?

Yeah I know but David Davies emptied a whole bottle of Fanta into Merkel’s bag but anyway Boris reckons he fingered her in the Commons.

Mrs May, do you want the UK to prosper?

UK what? Don’t give me evos.

---

With apologies to Joyce Grenfell

Oh, hello, M Barnier. I'm so glad you could come along. As you see, we're just having a Cabinet meeting, and in our Cabinet meeting each little individual chooses his or her own occupation. Some are painting, some are using plasticine, and some work at Brexit plans. We feel that each little one must get to the bottom of his or her self and find out what he really wants of life.

Who is making that buzzing noise?

Well, stop it please, Boris.

Priti, dear, come away from the airport and get on with your plasticine.

I love to see them so happily occupied, each one expressing his little personality...

Jacob - don't do that...

Now, Cabinet, I want you all to say 'Good morning' to M Barnier.

Good morning, M Barnier.

No, Michael, not good-bye. M Barnier has only just come. You don't want him to go away yet?

No, he hasn't got a funny accent, he's Belgian.

So sorry, M Barnier. Sometimes we ARE just a trifle outspoken. We try to encourage honesty, only sometimes it doesn't always...

And this is my friend Andrea, and Andrea is painting such a lovely red picture, aren't you, Andrea? I wonder what it is? Perhaps it's a lovely red sunset, is it? Or a big red orange? It's a picture of Theresa! For a moment I thought it was a big red orange, but now you tell me, I can see it is a picture of Theresa. Aren't you going to give her a head?

No head. It's so interesting the way they see things.

Michael, don't blow at Philip, please.

I know I said you could choose what you are going to do, but you cannot choose to blow at Philip.

Because it isn't a good idea.

Yes, I know it makes his hair go up and down, but I don't want you to do it. Now get back to the sand-table, there's a good boy.

Yes, there is room, Amber; there's heaps of room. Just move up a bit. Amber! We never bite our friends.

Say you are sorry to Michael. You needn't kiss him.

No, you needn't hug him. Amber, PUT HIM DOWN.

No fisticuffs, please.

She hasn't made any teeth marks, has she, Michael?

Well then... don't fuss.

Sometimes our little egos are on the big side, I'm afraid...

Priti, dear, I don't want to have to say it again: please come away from the airport.

Why can't you?

Well, you shouldn't have put your finger in the keyhole, and then it wouldn't have got stuck.

Cabinet, there is no need for everyone to come and have a look just because poor Priti has caught her finger in the keyhole. Back to your work, please.

No, Michael, I don't think it is stuck in there for ever and ever. I don't for one minute think we will have to get the DUP to come and shoot the plane down to set her free. You do exaggerate, Michael.

Well, if we haven't got her finger out by dinnertime she'll have to have it here.

And her tea.

And her supper and stay the night.

But we are going to get it out, aren't we, Priti?

David. Turn round, please, David. Right round. Use your hanky, please, David. And again. And again. And now wipe. Thank you, David.

Priti, why did you put your finger in the keyhole?

To see if it would go in!

Well, now let's see if we can get it out!

Who is making that buzzing noise?

Boris.

I know you are a busy bee, but boy busy-bees don't buzz. Only bee busy-bees buzz.

I can still hear you, Boris.

Boris!

I should think so.

He's such a musical child, and one doesn't want to discourage him.

Michael, take that paint-brush out of your ear and give it back to Angela.

Yes, you do want it back, Angela. You like painting.

Yes, you do.

We're hoping she is going to take to it soon.

Now then, Priti, have you tried wiggling it?

You know, M Barnier, this child's finger really is caught in the keyhole... I think the DUP are the best in an emergency.

Yes, there is a telephone - at the end of the passage. Would you? Oh, that is good of you. I'll stay here and hold the fort and prepare the Cabinet. Thank you so much.

Cabinet, I don't want anyone to get excited, but kind M Barnier has gone to see if we can get one of those clever men from the DUP to come and help us get Priti's finger out...

Oh, you've got it out, Priti. Well done. That's lovely.

IT'S ALL RIGHT, M Barnier - SHE'S GOT IT OUT.

Michael. You are not to go near the keyhole.

Michael.

Can you get it out?

I SPOKE TOO SOON, M Barnier...

Oh, Michael...