Jeremy Corbyn’s busy getting the Downing Street flat measured up for scarlet curtains and Boris Johnson has been arrested following a public brawl with his chief adviser, Dominic Cummings, the scene of this alternate political future is set for getting Brexit undone. But, as our Political Correspondent Peter Spencer reports, this Labour government is just as flimsy as it is numerically challenged.
‘The people’s flag is deepest red, it shrouded oft our martyred dead. And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold, their hearts’ blood dyed in every fold.’
Try as he might to keep order, the speaker was unable to prevent newly elected and emboldened Labour MP’s bursting into song as the Prime Minister strode into the chamber.
A moment of anarchic bliss not shared, oddly enough, by the depleted ranks on the opposition side.
The former leader of the commons, Jacob Rees-Mogg, expressed his feelings by lying full-length across one of the Tory back benches, his legs splayed over seats in front of and behind him. Not as if there isn’t room now.
Word is he’s decided to follow the advice he gave Grenfell residents. Get the hell outta here. Watch this space. An early by-election beckons.
Meantime, as Prime Minister’s Questions got under way, Jeremy Corbyn couldn’t resist a meteorological metaphor in his reference to how things were looking for Bojo’s band of brothers.
‘Tickle your arse with a feather.’
He may have said that, although it was hard to tell under the hubbub. It could just have been ‘particularly nasty weather’. Comes to the same thing anyway, when you think about it.
Anyway, Michael Gove, standing in for his incarcerated party leader, couldn’t resist a smirk. Seems he and Bojo haven’t been getting on too well since December 12th.
There are reports that Donald Trump has offered to stand bail for Boris, on the grounds he’s a really great guy and you shouldn’t kick a man while he’s down.
The US President has also offered to buy Belmarsh prison and turn it into a luxury hotel to make it a bit more comfy. His Twitter feed is illuminating.
‘So he KILLED that creep Cummings! So what! Fare fight! It was an acsident! We get mass shootings hear in US of A every day of the weak!’
Across the channel, however, there’s a different view emerging.
Michel Barnier, the EU’s chief negotiator, was initially guarded in his reaction to the British election result. But then he was caught on camera in a moment that was decidedly unguarded.
‘Mais ce putain de Fils-de-Jean, maintenant cet espèce de putain de con peut s’enculer dans une tasse de putain de merde. Vive la France!’
Graceful of him to use so much Anglo-Saxon in that epitaph. Also, kind of him to acknowledge the ex-PM’s use of language. Even though Bojo did in the end fillet out the word ‘onanism’.
But what of UK’s future in Europe, now that the Remainers’ hopes have flickered back to life?
At two minutes past ten on election night, Tony Blair reprised Paddy Ashdown and said ‘if this exit poll really is right I shall eat my hat’.
Reports that he spent the next day at Guy’s Hospital having his stomach pumped have yet to be confirmed.
Likewise claims that he and Sir John Major have held confidential talks with the Director General of MI5, aimed at getting Jeremy Corbyn charged with historic offences of treason.
The idea being, it has been alleged, that he can then be replaced by One of Us.
Step forward the new Foreign Secretary, Emily Thornberry. For a start, she represents the right bit of Islington, not the disappointing end, like that snivelling cur Corbyn.
Also, she’s got the right attitude to Brexit. None of this namby-pamby let the people decide nonsense. Instead, the smack of firm government.
‘Screw White Van man. And Saint George. And those thickos oop north. They can eat their own whippets. We’ll revoke the referendum and lick Brussels’ boots as never before.
‘In Europe and ruled by Europe. Soupe à l’oignon, anyone?’
Bit hard to stomach gastronomically, that, for the Lib Dem leader Jo Swinson. But politically, one helluva haggis.
Besides, given her ethnicity, she’s a firm believer in the Auld Alliance with the French. So Scots wha hae! Mel Gibson! Braveheart!
Across the Irish Sea, however, there’s been a frisson of disappointment. All those Proddie paramilitaries had been looking forward to a spot of target practice on the new border posts.
They’d also already spent big on a new UVNF, tooling up converted trawlers as a naval force to mash up the maritime border with England.
Meantime, back in Westminster, realpolitik rools among the opposition parties. At least for the moment.
No, the Scot Nat, Greens, Lib Dems and Official Monster Raving Loony Party are all agreed, they have not entered into a coalition with Labour. Nor even a Confidence and Supply arrangement.
They said they wouldn’t, so they won’t.
Same applies to the Church of the Militant Elvis Party, the Eccentric Party of Great Britain and the New Millennium Bean Party.
A loose confederation of warring tribes, then, is all Jeremy Corbyn can look forward to. That, and a very English coup. Not to mention a diet of porridge.
So it could be Nigel Farage won’t be too downhearted after all, if Jennifer Arcuri doesn’t offer him a job stateside in her new high-tech agony aunt consultancy Bollocks to Bojo Inc.
And it’s little wonder the somewhat depleted European Research Group hasn’t quite given up hope, evidenced by its commons counter-chorus at PMQ’s last week.
‘I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, till we have built Jerusalem in England’s green and pleasant land.’
The newly re-elected Caroline Lucas gave them a little clap, then remembered it was the wrong sort of people singing about the wrong sort of green.
Afterwards, it’s reported, a dejected Jezza stumbled back to Number Ten to nuzzle up to El Gato.
But no, that is not a misspelling of the French word for a cake. It’s the Spanish word for The Cat.
The new Downing Street feline is black and white, unlike politics in the post-election maelstrom. One can but hope Jeremy does not try to mirror the Donald with any unnecessary pussy grabbing.
Happy New Year everyone!
Peter Spencer has 40 years experience as a Political Correspondent in Westminster, working with London Broadcasting and Sky News. For more of his fascinating musings on the turbulent political landscape, follow him on Facebook & Twitter.