Season's Brexit Blessings

Midway between All Hallows' Eve and the rah-rah over the torture and execution of a failed parliamentary reformer means, of course, that the corporate calendar is at least half-way through the annual Christmas season. Like many other aspects of British life, the Saccharine Solstice has been affected by independence from the beastly Euro-scrooges. Owing to the Strasbrussels dictatorship's refusal to treat the UK as a member of the club just because the UK happens to have flounced out of the club, the great British Christmas tree is now subject to expensive border checks whenever it is sufficiently British to be imported. Although shortages are unlikely this year, price rises may drive many to accept artificial substitutes and deprive themselves of the innocent seasonal pleasure of picking pine needles out of the carpet until midway through the chocolate egg sales. A few entrepreneurs on the mainland have started growing their own trees, which may spruce up the market should enough of them survive the floods, droughts, invasive species and moral panics which will inevitably enliven future festivities. Given that the tradition of exterminating trees for Christmas was introduced to the master race by the Euro-wog royal house of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, patriots will no doubt rejoice at this latest poetic victory.