Then, while the Brexiteers are mumbling and stumbling around in indecision, let’s have that kebab we predicted while we look longingly and sadly at the slammed and locked doors of the hottest club in town, the club we chose to walk out of.

Then let’s try and plan what we really are going to do.

Britain is not compelled to leave the European Union on the basis of one plebiscite. Constitutional experts agree on that, but the country has spoken, and the honorable thing to do is to accede to the country’s wishes.

17,410,742 people voted to leave. That’s 27% of the population. The other 73% of the population who didn’t, couldn’t or wouldn’t vote, or who voted Remain, will just have to go along with it.

A Conservative leader has stepped down, much to the pleasure of his self-appointed successor who has produced a political coup — not a masterstroke, but a fluke. Even he is stunned by what has happened.

An unelectable Labour leader is grimly hanging on to power, despite 12 of his leading shadow cabinet members abandoning him over the weekend. But the Chauncey Gardiner of British politics has an ideology to promulgate, and the trivialities of what people want, whether they be the electorate or the Parliamentary Labour Party, are irrelevancies to the greater mission.

Scotland is gearing itself up for a second referendum on independence. This time there’s little doubt the Yeas will have it. And they will apply to join — or remain in — the EU. And we’ll lose Nicola Sturgeon, probably the most impressive politician operating in the UK today.

This of course will signal the end of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. And it wouldn’t have to be one of the six impossible things to believe before breakfast to imagine Northern Ireland and the Republic finally setting aside their most fundamental differences and their border.

That leaves England with only Wales to kick around.

There could be a new Tory leader by September. He or she may want to call an election, because Captain Corbyn will still be be at the helm of the good ship Labour, despite the tips of the funnels and the masts being the only items visible above the waterline.

Scotland won’t care. There’ll be a Tory landslide. Funding to Welsh areas will plummet dramatically — what Tory politician ever visits Wales out of choice? — and Wales’s decision to vote Leave (OK, not my lovely Gwynedd, or Ceredigion, or Cardiff & the Vale, or Monmouth) will be akin to stuffing an orange in your mouth and pulling a plastic bag over your head. “That will show the bastards!” you can exult, as you agonisingly die.

The Lib Dems want to campaign to get us back into Europe. That makes emotional sense to me, but the hard-eyed Bastards of Brussels will seek punitive revenge. It won’t happen.

In reality, we’re not going to get a second bite of the salami. We’ll trip over our laces as we fumble our way to the tradesman’s exit, forgetting to tip the doorkeeper as we go. And the shutters will go down for at least five years, to teach us a lesson for our impertinence.

So this is how I see the next few years:
1. New Tory leader
2. General election
3. Tory landslide
4. Scotland vote OOT!
5. Labour Party finished
6. UK finished
7. Jubilation as emigration exceeds immigration
8. 2022 trade agreement with one of the Venezuelan governments hailed as significant step forward
9. Learn which berries keep better over winter than others

Already there’s a butcher in Devon selling meat in pounds and ounces. And there’ll no doubt be a move to bring back pounds, shillings and pence. I can’t wait to trade in my filthy foreign V10 Phaeton for an Armstrong-Siddeley Sapphire. It’s going to be great!

Isn’t it?

They have given into the hands of new, unhappy lords
Lords without anger or honour, who dare not carry their swords
They fight by shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes
They look on our loves and laughter as a tired man looks at flies.
And the load of their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs
Their doors are shut in the evenings, and they know no songs.

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