The esteemed Supreme Court has spoken, understandably pointing out that its decisions are about the law, not politics. And as the gubmint expected, it will have to ask both houses to approve its implementation of Brexit. Fine.
But much cooler (I’m so modern, huh?) is its short sharp rebuke to the fringes of British Isles. Butt out! Brexit is a UK decision. So will the Scotch PM finally leave the stage? I hope so.
The former President cannot have been alone in seeking divine intervention yesterday, but only Auntie managed to read his mind. Some say it was unintentional, others are not so sure.
The meeja clever dicks are already up in arms about the PM’s priorities for Brexit, kick-off timed for the end March BST. But the ever-fickle markets for money seem to approve and have swiftly reversed the Brexit discount they applied yesterday before she spoke. So I approve too, given the sterling nature of my pensions.
Being British but not being liberal or elite, I applaud the idea of explaining slowly and loudly to the Continentals in English that there’s more than one way to trade together, to deal with immigration and to subsidise worthwhile activities – none of them involving the EU, its legal set-up and its federal ambitions. And more fool the Europrats if they can’t follow the logic or see the light.
Keep calm and carry the day, Ms May.
I heard about you from my friend, Nigel
This is your Court correspondent, reporting on the life and work of Snowdon, just call him Tony.
Of course those society snappers faced awful temptations. Some resisted, I’m sure; others, like Tony, indulged. But (again of course, given the the tempora and the mores) the extent of the indulgence was never revealed.
After Meg succumbed to the curse of her cigs, Tony continued to bat for both sides, taking his latest handsome squeezes to be entertained to dinner by ‘friends’.
A full-colour fella, eh? RIP.
I fear that the wheels are about to fall of the esteemed Chariot.
Haven’t you noticed that the number of active participants is in free fall?
Shame.
Ms May is reputed to have given BoJo enough rope to hang himself with his appointment as Foreign Sec, realising that his outspoken style ill-fitted him for diplomacy. He always was a ‘ready, fire, aim’ kinda fella. So while David and Liam get on with Brexit, the nation’s favourite demagogue keeps on digging, more or less out of harm’s way for now. He will of course blot his copybook big-time very soon, so we will see if the PM will act.
But please, Ma’am, don’t bring back George Osborne! (Although who else could make a decent job of the Foreign Office?)
Ronald himself votes for London. Worldwide royalties outside the US are to be taxed in a new London HQ in preference to Juncker’s tax haven.
Will I have fries with that? You betchya!
Que?
I see that a certain Penelope from said country is wed to the prospective Pres of the Gauls! And her sister is wed to his…. brother.
Is she Ms May’s secret weapon Brexitwise, I wonder?
Boadicea's Chariot 
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