It was exciting. For something involving Brexit it was very exciting. I watched it ‘live’. On the news channel. It showed an empty room. Called ‘the House of Commons’. Its always empty, you get a few bods lolling around in the back, half asleep, often someone talking at the front, but no-ones listening. Its just a sea of green seats. Then suddenly, every seat is filled, standing room only, bods in suits (and skirts; that’s the Lib-dems and other women) piled 3 high in the gangways. All for one little vote. Do we accept Theresa May’s revised-but-not-very deal plan with which we shall LEAVE EUROPE (well some of it, and not the Irish really, they’ll hardly be leaving at all) ON MARCH 29TH!!!! BREXIT MEANS BREXIT!!!

It lost. By a margin that before this whole saga began would have been called a ‘catastrophic’ defeat, a ‘truly massive’ thumping. Lost by 149 votes. Which for a government, albeit one with no overall minority, is horrendous. But last night it felt like a victory. Because the defeat was so much better than the last one. Then Theresa rose in her chair, bravely, sadly, and opened her mouth to speak. And her voice had been hijacked by the monster from The Exorcist. She’s spent so much of the last week shouting at Messrs Barnier and Junkers that what was left of her voice was was donated by a serial murderer when he’d finished using it for making threats from old phone boxes. Very scary. Our PM is possessed!!

Today they’ll vote on whether we can leave with no deal. Which will be a resounding ‘non!’ as no-one wants that, not even Corbyn because there’s no political mileage in it for him. Otherwise he would. And so we’re left with… errrr… well… there’s always… how ’bout… errrr…

We’ll delay. The next vote. To delay or re-vote.

Main problem: just over half the people in the country (who I’ll call for purposes of differentiation: THE STUPID HALF) want Brexit, whereas 3/4s of MPs are remainers. And they have to represent all of us. You do da maffs.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx