A Certain Il Ne Sait Quoi

Since the dead-eyed warden of HM Prison UK has decreed that no deal with the Euro-wogs would be better than any deal that the Rothermere Daily Stürmer might squeal about, the Minister for Cutting the Continent Loose has naturally made no attempt whatever to find out what might happen if no deal is in fact reached. The blithering prima donna David Davis has been blathering at a Commons committee, which had the temerity to question Tin-Pot Tessie's infallible interpretation of the People's inalterable Will. David Davis neither knows nor cares what the impact of defaulting to WTO rules would be, but he is jolly sure that it would be rather rah-rah in some respects, and by no means as frightening as predicted by mere experts such as the CBI and various other people who lack the vision to be Paul Dacre or Rupert Murdoch. In any case, he blathered, it is otiose to plan for a particular outcome when one does not yet know how that outcome might be mitigated. As long as David Davis doesn't know what may happen, nobody else has any business wondering what may happen, because you can't tell what might happen to change what might otherwise happen, and the sublime serenity of David Davis is in any case far more robust than the remoaning of a few million citizens of nowhere. Ironically enough, if only the blithering prima donna were blathering to his fellow inmates at the comfortably padded lunatic asylum that is Chevening House he would have a far more reliable basis for his optimistic inklings. After all, there can be few better locations in which to discover that crashing out of Europe without a deal would most likely have no adverse effect on either Boris Johnson or Adam Werritty.