There is no rationing of the good news flowing from Boris Johnson. Brexit will be a breeze, he says, we survived rationing before.
“The storm clouds are not gathering,” he assured the nation from the back door of Arlene Foster’s place in Belfast. “It will all blow over very quickly. It’s a storm in a teacup, and we should all just go home and, err, yes, yes, that’s it, have a nice cup of tea! Jolly good!”
Independent observers believe that the wiffling windbag is full of hot air. “Boris Johnson is being very flippant about food shortages,” remarked Eaton McCurry. “Brits will not be happy that their traditional diet of biryani and pizza is being replaced by powdered eggs.”
There is concern that the blue ration books will not be ready in time. “The War Cabinet has bigger fish to fry,” reveals Westminster bureaucrat Una Lected. “Like securing sufficient donations from international proto-fascists to ensure that supplies of vintage champagne are maintained.”
There is also a logistical problem. “The ration books are being printed in Poland,” said Lected. “Like the new blue passports. They will be shipped to the UK via the Dover-Calais route, which, according to Dominic Raab, doesn’t exist. They will be held in bond in France until the UK settles its account with the EU, which Johnson insists won’t happen. There may be adequate food, but nobody will be able to claim it.”
We return to the Prime Minister, who was still hanging around Arlene Foster’s back door, more in hope than anticipation. “We need to be a bit more can-do and a bit less gung-ho,” he wibbled, weakly. “We are British, after all. We must tap into the Blitz Spirit, the Dunkirk Spirit and the potato spirit! The water won’t be drinkable, of course. Rationing for the many, not the few, I say. Good, good!”
The UK is officially at war. With the demons inside the heads of men like Boris Johnson.