Rees-Mogg will be become the new Screaming Lord Sutch of Britpol.  
Bojo by then will go full skinhead and opine the same absurdist ballyhoo as ever in a Sarf Lunnen brogue.

Circled by psychiatrists, Teresa will be staunch to the end in a never-before-seen advanced stage of dementia politicalis, shouting 'Brexit meant Brexit' over the howling winds of nationalism and the numb silence of voters surveying the damage, picking flotsam and jetsam  at low tide.

Hunt and Hammond swan-dove off the poop, Corbyn decided that he could never decide about the EU because that's above his pay grade. He just wants to patch up as many voters as he can and being a man of integrity, he cannot bring himself to support anything less than his own full leadership of HMS WTF. Watching the Debordian spectacle of the Tory debâcle is too distractingly stimulating to worry about the EU much.
Barnier sighs, knowing the national nervous breakdown the U-Kay is experiencing could turn all jilly-jally and spread to other countries in his retirement purview.
He grits his choppers and meditates on the May elections.

(No not that May, wally. The month!)

The yoga breathing sessions with Tusk and Jungker will help with dyspepsia.


'The history of public debt is full of irony. It rarely follows our ideas of order and justice.' Thomas Piketty