“I want to take you on a happy journey,” he said, his voice quaking with the power of revelation. “A journey where we will be in control. The remain campaign have said that a Goveland is a land of despair ruled by mad king Boris, a land where potatoes lie rotting in the fields, a land without electricity, a land where the City of London crumbles to dust and we are left to expire unmourned.
“But I saith unto you that this is a lie. Goveland is a land of freedom, a land of hope and glory. A land other nations shall admire from afar. A land that will be just about perfect because we can choose which foreigners we want and which ones we don’t. A land a bit like Australia, only not quite so hot. Or large. Or so far away. A land a bit like Switzerland, only not quite so cold. Or mountainous. Or in the middle of Europe. A land unlike any other land. A land which even the Scots would get round to loving eventually. An island paradise.”
It would be appreciated if our politicians could return to reality.