At 12.25 yesterday, GMT, Britain’s Dear Jean (French for John, innit) letter was submitted to the European Union. By 12.29 I was bored with fucking Brexit. I have no idea about the significance of that particular time. It was a totally ‘un-Kennedy’ moment. In that, no-one will ever remember what they were doing at 12.25 on Wednesday, March 29th 2017. But as its such a significant event of world-shattering consequence and repercussion, I’ll show you the letter.

Dear Foreigners,

Look, we’ve had some fun, we’ve had some wild times, we’ve laughed, we’ve cried, its been a blast. But its time to move on, to move forward and I think we need a break from each other. Its nothing you’ve done wrong, its about me. And when I say ‘done nothing wrong’, I mean other than the endless rules, laws, regulations, total control freakery, restrictions, fighting, bickering and sufficient red tape to circle the planet 57 times. You’ve taken every penny I had and still want more. And speaking French and Italian and Polish all the time; WHAT’S THAT ALL ABOUT????

So I feel I need to ‘grow’. Not outwards, more… spiritually. As a person. Or, as a nation really.

I hope we can still be friends, I’ll keep you on Facebook, and I’ll never forget our time together.

Oh, and by the way, if you don’t give us a trade deal we’ll screw you royally on terrorism intelligence, which you’re shit at and we’re Billy Whiz. Despite last Wednesday on Westminster Bridge.

Love you forever,

Theresa xxxx

It was brief and to the point. And now the negotiations begin in earnest.

The Poles want to ensure that their thousands of nationals will be secure in Britain. The Germans want to make sure we’ll still buy their BMWs. The French surrendered. They don’t know who to, but its what they always do when things get rough.

What an exciting time for the Nation, for Europe, for the WORLD (zzzzzzzzzz…)

Happy post-article 50 Thursday

A xxxx