For the first time in his political life, Dave had a sense of “the vision thing”. People accused him of lacking inspiration. He was pretty good at seeming like an affable, reasonably competent sort of chap. But he’d never had a dream that would inspire the average man or woman in the street.
Now, though, he was on to something. Three times in the past, Tory prime ministers had delivered an entire continent from the yoke of tyranny. Lord Liverpool had saved Europe from Napoleon. Churchill had saved Europe from Hitler. Now he, Dave, would save Europe from Juncker.
He would stand up before the British people and say, “I won’t allow this federalist nonentity from Luxembourg to condemn us to standardised bananas and vast hordes of invading Bulgarians. I will argue for a marginally reformed Europe that still lets Germany call the shots, while giving us a few meaningless opt-outs that the French don’t object to.”
“And if that’s not a dream,” he thought, “I don’t know what is.”Sad but true.