The editor of the Daily Mail was rumoured to be in a chair throwing frenzy inside his office this morning after the latest bag of chicken entrails were spread across the floor and read for omens on Brexit.
“We normally just use tea leaves,” a woman purporting to be an aide whispered down the line to LCD’s gutter press analyst, “but with so many economic indicators showing amber to red, well, we brought in one of our heavy hitting fortune tellers.”
It’s believed the fortune teller stirred the chicken guts with ink from the Mail’s printing press over and over but each time it settled in a pattern interpreted as complete and utter screw up.
“That’s normally a good sign. We test our headlines that way. Say we’re running an article on multiculturalism and how it’s failed, we want to see a skull. The same with anything to do with health and safety gone mad, but Brexit…”
Apparently they need sunny uplands or a unicorn dancing, but it refused to show.
“He’s sent for some oxen bowels from the knacker’s yard behind our staff cafeteria. If they don’t give the answer demanded there’s going to be a heated editorial meeting over how soon we start to distance ourselves from the government and start blaming them for failing to make a success of Brexit.”
A suggestion that a total failure to plan for the desired outcome over the years spent campaigning for it was dismissed as naive.
“No one ever wanted to win. The 23rd of June was the day we lost one of greatest sources of revenue. We still haven’t gotten over it.
It’s almost as bad for us as when that measles pandemic struck and we had to stop with the anti-vax articles. Sometimes when you win you actually lose.”
Who would have ever thought of that?