I was up at the crack of dawn to get my hands on my 'free GIANT map of Brexit Britain' in today’s Daily Mail. I was extremely disappointed to find that it was not a map of Brexit Britain — but pre-Brexit post-1707, Britain. And it included the six occupied countries which I thought was a tad distasteful.
Nothing was made any easier once I entered the office, as covert Operation Twit had unearthed information in the night that suggested Owen Jones has been scabbing on us again. He forgets that he has Maccy D to thank for where he is today — if the Mac hadn’t been such an inspiring boss to work for, OJ would never have left his office so eagerly, to write about people who live in caravans and wear Burberry caps.
Luckily I got Jimmy Fitzwilliam Ryder-Jones, our secondment from the Momentum office (though the amount of time he spends with us, it feels increasingly like one of those unpaid internships) to get on the WhatsApp to Oxford Momentum and sort OJ out through some lucid debate. Think it did the trick.
Having earned an extended luncheon, I then attempted to engage Sean in a conversation about Breakfast over some Portcullis House jerk chicken. It being far too spicy, I swapped it for a Mac Ds.
Though Sean didn’t appear to be in the mood to discuss Breakfast so I changed course.
“So how are we going to whip the Brexit vote Sean?”
My question was met with a raised eyebrow as I felt burger sauce sweep down my chin.
“There’s no whips under the new politics. Our MPs can vote with their consciences now we are out of the political wilderness.” Sean replied lazily, as he flung Maccy D and Red Ken's co-authored article, “The case for a People’s Hard Brexit and why TTIP is worse than Hitler” into the compost bin.
“What?” I continued as I grew mournful at the sorry state of my Big Mac — “We’re not taking a position at all?”
“The people have spoken comrade, and we have bigger things to be worrying about” — he continued. “Speaking of — how are you getting on with those Momentum membership lists?”
“Lansburyman won’t let anyone near them. I think they’re locked away in a safe somewhere.”
Sean sighed. “If JC finds out Lansburyman’s been printing hard copies…”
“I know. I tried to explain the environmental impact of him doing so —not to mention his political future in the project if the leader found out — but he doesn’t know how to work socialism with an ipad — he says the screen hurts his eyes.”
“Well go see if you can get your hands on them. We can’t allow people to just vote for whatever they feel like come Momentum conference!”
I hurried off, skipping down the corridor in restrained glee at my new mission. At long last, after months of remoaning from filthy liberals, I was now getting to do the thing that inspired me to get into politics in the first place. Data entry.
The battle over Brexit had been won. The real war was just beginning.
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