This is Brexit in name only to keep the plebs happy

My wife has decided she likes Dominic Raab, the latest poor sap to be despatched from a hamstrung, spasticated government to negotiate our exit from the European Union before a plethora of sniggering pygmies from the Low Countries. I think it’s the sound of his surname, those consecutive vowels, because I’ve noticed she also likes aardvarks and once expressed a wish to visit Aachen. I can’t think of many other reasons to like the chap. He surely knows what we all know, Leavers and Remainers alike — that the route our Prime Minister dreamed up one night while out of her box on skag, presumably, is not Brexit at all and would leave us in a far worse position than if we remained within the confines of that increasingly totalitarian bureaucracy.

It is in fact that thing which has become a hallmark of the staggeringly hapless May’s administration, the botched quick-fix designed solely to keep her in office for a few more weeks.