“There are no plans to deploy the army to maintain food supplies.”
You know what’s a surefire way of making me nervous about getting murdered in my sleep? It’s if you tell me not to worry my pretty little head about having my throat slit just as I nod off. Call me paranoid, but that kind of talk shits me right up. The next thing you know I’ve tapped 999 into my phone, with a tentative finger hovering over the screen like I’m part of some ill-fated Freddy Krueger reboot.
Speaking of scary fuckers, I dunno what Brexit Secretary Dominic Raab had in mind when he addressed the nation on Thursday morning. I mean, I assume it was to reassure everyone that the worst predictions about a no-deal Brexit were unfounded. But really, I’m beginning to think he’s actually a militant Remainer intent on scaring the living shit – and perhaps some sense – into us all. If that’s the plan, it fucking worked.
"You will still be able to enjoy a BLT" – Brexit secretary @DominicRaab shoots down fears of a potential "sandwich famine" in the event of a #NoDealBrexit 🥪 https://t.co/DKjbptXXpT pic.twitter.com/9PaH7TOqpI
— BBC Politics (@BBCPolitics) August 23, 2018
I mean look at him. Not only is he speaking with all the confident of a second season Chelsea manager, but he’s sweating like a [redacted] at a [redacted]. If a junior doctor came out of the operating theatre to speak to you about a loved one looking like that, you’d have contacted the funeral directors before they’d finished their first sentence. Look at his forehead FFS – it’s stickier than the floor of a Wetherspoon’s toilet.
Then there’s the way he throws about phrases like ‘sandwich famine’ and ‘deploying the army’ like it’s not the first thing we’ll associate with no-deal Brexit now. And a word of advise about prop-use Dom – if you’re gonna reassure us all that the national food and drink supply is plentiful and diverse, maybe don’t precede it with a ravenous gulp of water like you’re Bear Grylls in the Sahara drinking piss out a sock.
Everything about it is a study in relating growing panic. The funny thing is, you know that Raab and his advisors came up with the soundbite ‘BLT after Brexit’ and badly high-fived each other in celebration.
Little did they seem to appreciate that bragging about still being able to buy a fucking sandwich after Brexit is possibly the most damning sentiment of all. Talk about sleepless fucking nights.
