Last week, our not at all unelected Prime Minister went off to Brussels for a chat around the table with the leaders of all those other 27 EU member states - you know, the folks that our free and fearless press, along with an array of right-leaning politicians, some of whom are in her Government, have spent the recent past slagging off - and found that the reception she received, given the referendum vote to Leave, was less than welcoming.
Video has been going the rounds showing how all those back-slapping ghastly foreigners were shunning our brave and principled leader, giving the Pundit Establishment an ideal excuse to avoid discussing what a lousy PMQs performer Ms May is, or what a control freak she is turning out to be, and instead go after the rotten beastly Frogs, Krauts, Cloggies and anyone else who fails to speak English, dammit.
And today has brought some excellent examples of this latest butthurt, the dawning realisation that if we want to take our bat home and leave the club, we shouldn’t expect to be treated other than as a fart in a spacesuit, but dressed up as the defiant embodiment of the bulldog spirit. First into the fray has come Tony “Arsehole” Parsons at the Sun, who has wheeled out his Dad’s demob suit and recalled the war.
This is always difficult for Parsons, because he wasn’t born until after it ended, but still, details, eh? “BRUSSELS showed its ugly face in the spiteful and disrespectful treatment of Theresa May, frozen out by the political pygmies of the EU … Bet your last euro that our PM will not forget this deliberate humiliation” he whines. What’s she going to do then, Tone? We’ve already taken our bat home - we can’t stage a repeat.
But he’s not listening: “They were all so much friendlier when they needed the British to liberate their countries!” A word in your shell-like, Tone. Those mainland European countries would have waited a lot longer than they did for liberation if they had been depending only on the Brits. As any fule kno, it needed the USA to put its resources into the struggle before anyone got liberated (and help them rebuild afterwards).
It doesn’t get any better over at the Mail, where Bozza’s equally off-the-wall sister Rachel Johnson has been telling readers “only one of us alive today has been the Brexit Britain Prime Minister at a summit in Brussels … Only one person has had to endure the exquisite social humiliation in public, and in real time, for the world to see and have everyone think: ‘Oh dear. Poor old Theresa May. Bit of a Mrs No Mates, isn’t she?’”
And we all know what those dastardly foreigners are up to, don’t we, Mail readers? “Everyone in the Justus Lipsius building bar one seemed to have someone to man-hug or clap on the back or yak to in French … the other leaders wanted her to skedaddle so they could gang up on Britain in French”. Yeah, they were all talking foreign!
Hello Rachel! What is the de facto first language of the EU, thanks to us here in Britain? No, it’s not French. No, it’s not German either. And it’s not Esperanto. No, it’s English. So it’s more than likely that most of that conversation was in English.
Yes, we got the EU to speak our language, then slagged them off incessantly and walked out. And the best our pundit class can do to explain this is to tell whoppers about the war, then blubber that foreigners might talk foreign. Away with the pair of you.