Person 1: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Person 2: Say what?
Person 1: I observed that the times we live in are the best of time while simultaneously the worst.
Person 2: That doesn’t make sense. Sunstroke. Maybe check with your GP.
Person 1: I think not. Boris Johnson has just been made Prime Minister of Britain. Is that not truly a sign of the worst of times?
Person 2: What a numpty. Did you hear his speech in the House of Commons the other day?
Persson 1: I did indeed. Through fingers pressed to my face.
Person 2: Me too. Blustering bullshit.
Person 1: We are agreed. From start to finish, it was as you say blustering bullshit. Or you might prefer to call it preposterous poppycock.
Person 2: That’ll do
Person 1: But dangerous posh poppycock. People could believe him when he says he’ll remove the backstop from the EU –UK agreement.
Person 2: There’ll be hell to pay if he does. In jobs, in businesses, in farming, politically. There are people living on the border who say they’re not going to go through all that again. There will disorder and maybe violence on the streets, in the fields, on the beaches.
Person1: Couldn’t have put it better if my name was Churchill. Which it’s not.
Person 2: So you don’t need to go round telling me it’s the worst of times. You’re preaching to the converted. But what’s the best of times about that kind of chaos?
Person 1: The silver lining is there if you look hard enough for it. What did Johnson’s election do to people in Scotland and the north of Ireland? And maybe Wales as well?
Person 2: Made them want to heave the contents of their stomachs into the nearest toilet-bowl.
Person 1: Indeed. It will nauseate them. But they will be united.
Person 2: Including the DUP?
Person 1 : Ah here now. We’re talking about normal people. Normal people will take one look at and one listen to Johnson and declare “We’re not putting up with the likes of that.”
Person 2: Up with what?
Person 1 : Up with having our futures and those of our children ground underfoot by a Balliol posh-boy.
Person 2: But what can they do? What can we do? What can anybody do except try somehow to cope?
Person 1: You’ve heard of the Good Friday Agreement?
Person 2: I have.
Person 1: And that the Scot Nats are limbering up for a second independence referendum?
Person 2: I have. But are you saying…
Person 1: Precisely. I’m saying that if Boris in his bullocky way does a mad rush at the Brexit cliff, Scotland and the north of Ireland will feel very tempted to take the obvious route out.
Person 2: Which is…
Person 1: Which is to detach their two states from the UK so they can remain in the EU.
Person 2: But would the EU have us?
Person 1: With open arms.
Person 2: But if Scotland and the north of Ireland left the UK, that’d leave only…
Person 1: Right. Little Wales. Who would be sorely tempted to follow Scotland and the north of Ireland.
Person 2: Leaving just England.
Person 1: Precisely. Now you’re talking. Merrie England, sailing off in search of new glorious trade deals, with Johnson steering.
Person 2: I like it. But is it possible?
Person 1: All things are possible where people see the big picture.
Person 2: But what about Arlene Foster? What’s to become of her?
Person 1: She has promised to emigrate.
Person 2: Whoo-hooo! Now I see what you mean. It’s the worst of times now, but anyday now it may very well be…
Person 1: The best of times – precisely. Fancy a tall chilled pint?
Person 2: Definitely. Maybe two. Anyone ever tell you you’re not as stupid as you look?
Person 1: Thank you. You are too kind.
They enter a pub, where the TV shows Ireland knocking seven bells out England at cricket.
Person 2 (pointing at TV): Chickens coming home to roost.Person 1: `Or buzzards, maybe. Sláinte.
Person 2: To Boris the bullock.It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
They enter a pub, where the TV shows Ireland knocking seven bells out England at cricket.
Person 2 (pointing at TV): Chickens coming home to roost.
Person 1: Or buzzards. Hard to tell. Sláinte
Comments are closed.