Brexit negotiations got off to a troubled start this morning when EU negotiators failed to achieve the agreement of all 27 member states on whether to have croissants or pain au chocolat for breakfast. British negotiators rubbed salt into the wound by having a bacon sandwich and doing Inspector Clouseau impressions.
The contentious issue of whether the UK should pay a multi-billion pound divorce bill on leaving the union was put aside while debate raged over whether pickled herring is even a proper breakfast. French and Italian officials came to blows over who had the most attractive mistress while the Greeks took advantage of the confusion to steal the Germans’ wallets. The Germans responded by demanding the return of Alsace-Lorraine. Again.
Negotiations on the repeal of the common agriculture policy were suspended while David Davis rode around the conference hall on a bike while wearing a beret and a string of onions.
This lead to a vote among the 27 member states on whether to unilaterally leave Nato, but the motion failed to achieve the necessary numbers because the representative of Latvia had gone to the toilet. They did, however, manage to pass a retaliatory directive banning the sale and use of brown sauce.
Mr Davis responded by goosestepping around the table singing the Horst Wessel song, which amused the Dutch, causing the immediate re-militarisation of the Rhineland and the annexation of 26 tulip farms. Then the Danes punched the Swedes ‘just because we like doing it’ and the Finns wandered off to get drunk with the Irish, for much the same reason.
Asked to comment on the first day of negotiations an EU spokesman told the Mercury that events had gone ‘as well as we could realistically have hoped’, and that the process ‘demonstrated the close and instinctive bond that binds all the nations of Europe in harmonious union. Except the British, who we all hate now.’
The falling value of sterling is forcing this great British news-gathering institution into a period of enforced silence beginning today.
Newsagents in the Hackney area are expected to fly their flags at half mast, or at least drape packets of Monster Munch in black crepe, which is the traditional symbol of mourning among newsagents.
In an exclusive interview this morning, Mercury editor Norton Folgate told himself: ‘The pound’s collapse has been devastating for this newspaper.’
‘Like Rupert Murdoch we make our ink by grinding-up orphans flown in from the Calais ‘Jungle’. Also, our distribution network is based entirely on exploiting the labour of Romanian gypsies, just like any other forward-looking small business in the UK.’
‘The fall in sterling means, tragically, that orphan pulp has become prohibitively expensive and that, even in Romania, the Roma can actually earn more than the zero pounds we pay them here.’
‘This is just one more example of how the dead hand of a monolithic European Union is crushing the aspirations of hard-working businesses in the UK. Or it might be the fault of all those dreadful racists who voted for Brexit, I dunno. Either way, it’s not my bloody fault.’
The Mercury, therefore, is forced to take a sabbatical until Monday, when a new load of orphans is due in from Lesbos on a Sports Direct lorry.
After single-handedly scuppering a huge trade deal between Canada and the EU, the Belgian region of Wallonia – newly mad with power – has set its sights on expanding its global profile by buggering other things up.
‘Mais, oui,’ said Wallonia’s Dalston ambassador, His Excellency M. Tin Tin Poirot, ‘it’s about time Belgium threw off its hard-won reputation for being the most boring nation on earth and got on with the important business of shafting absolutely everyone for no good reason at all.’
Wallonia – a totally fictional place which previously existed only fleetingly in a scene from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – has lined up several international initiatives aimed at infuriating other countries and, possibly, provoking global war.
These initiatives include blocking-up the Suez Canal with cheese, painting giant Belgian cows on the Taj Mahal and invading Russia.
Asked why a tiny, insignificant region of a risibly pointless country should wish to cause havoc on the international stage, M. Poirot shrugged and told the Mercury ‘Because we can. And because the EU lets us. C’est la démocratie, n’est-ce pas?’
Then he went off to tell Hezbollah that Israel said they were all gay.