Horror at Night Train Crossing the Border

Is there no end to the malice of the beastly Euro-wogs? Mere days after Fishy Rishi pledged to fight on the beaches, in the fields and in the streets for the rights of the persecuted motorist, a railway service in the tattered Britishnessless remnants of the European Union is being blatantly and shamelessly expanded. Yet worse, the service runs some nine hundred miles between Prague and Brussels, the festering core of the bureaucratic cancer; which can hardly be intended as anything other than a mocking toot-toot at the mainland's inability to complete a railway line connecting civilisation and provinces within a single country and over less than a quarter of the distance. The additional presence of such foreign horrors as attractive timetables and well-balanced arrival and departure times and, if you please, increased comfort, merely serves to add un-British insult to the anti-motoristic injury.