The Crap Brexit Sketch

With sincere apologies to Monty Python, The Daily Distress proudly presents the Crap Brexit Sketch. Please note that there is some mild swearing.

the crap brexit sketch daily distress monty pythin

[A CUSTOMER ENTERS A SHOP]

Mr. Praline: ’Ello, I wish to register a complaint.

[THE OWNER, WHOSE NAME IS BORIS, IGNORES HIM]

Mr. Praline: ’Ello, Miss?

Boris: What do you mean “Miss?”

Mr. Praline: I’m sorry, my house is cold. I wish to make a complaint!

Boris: We’re prorogued.

Mr. Praline: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this Brexit what someone purchased not five years ago from this very boutique.

[PLACES A UNION JACK CARDBOARD BOX ON THE COUNTER. IT CONTAINS A BREXIT.]

Boris: Oh yes, the, uh, the Australian Deal, Ah, what’s, uh … What’s wrong with it?

Mr. Praline: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it, my lad. It’s crap, that’s what’s wrong with it!

Boris: No, no, it’s uh, … it’s uh, just a few teething troubles.

Mr. Praline: Look, matey, I know an economic disaster when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.

Boris: No, no, it’s not crap, it’s, it’s stalling! Remarkable deal, the Australian Deal, isn’t it, ay? Beautiful fishing!

Mr. Praline: The fishing don’t enter into it.  It’s crap!

Boris: No, no, no, no, no, no!  It’s a slow starter!

Mr. Praline: All right then, if it’s starting slowly, I’ll wake it up! (shouting at the box) ‘Ello, Super-Duper Brexit!  I’ve got a lovely trade deal with the Pitcairn Islands for you if you show…

[BORIS HITS THE BOX]

Boris: There, it moved!

Mr. Praline: No, it didn’t, that was you hitting the box!

Boris: I never!!

Mr. Praline: Yes, you did!

Boris: I never, never did anything…

Mr. Praline: (shaking the box violently) ’ELLO BREXIT! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o’clock alarm call!

[TAKES THE BREXIT OUT OF THE BOX AND POKES IT WITH A VERY SHARP PENCIL. IT DOES NOT MOVE]

Mr. Praline: Now that’s what I call a crap Brexit.

Boris: No, no, it’s ah, no, it’s sluggish!

Mr. Praline: SLUGGISH?!?

Boris: Yeah! You shook it just as it was starting to speed up!  Australian Deals shake very easily.

Mr. Praline: Um…now look…now look, mate, I’ve definitely had enough of this. That Brexit is decidedly crap, and when someone purchased it not five years ago, you assured me that it was all sunny uplands and unicorns and that nobody was going to starve.

Boris: Well, it’s, er, it’s er probably pining for the Ford.

Mr. Praline: Pining for the FORD?  What kind of talk is that?  It’s probably pining for the Toyota and the JLR, too!

Boris: The Australian Deal prefers to move slowly! Remarkable Brexit, isn’t it, squire? Lovely fishing!

Mr. Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that Brexit when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it hadn’t collapsed in the first place was that it was held together by sellotape.

Boris: Well, of course it was sellotaped!  If I hadn’t sellotaped up that Brexit, it would have shuffled up to the edge of the box, bent it apart with its scrupulous attention to detail, and VOOM!

Mr. Praline: “VOOM?”  Mate, this Brexit wouldn’t “voom” if you put four million volts through it!  It’s bleedin’ shite!

Boris: No no!  It’s pining!

Mr. Praline:   It’s not pining!  It’s total crap!  This Brexit is just poor!  It has ceased to be funny!  It’s expired and decomposed!   It’s just shit!  Bereft of quality, it rests in pieces!  If you hadn’t sellotaped it together it would be oozing through the floor!  Its economic processes are now history!  It’s off the rails!  It’s jumped the shark!  It’s clogging up the drains, it’s heading down the ocean to join the English Armada!  THIS IS A CRAP BREXIT!

[PAUSE]

Boris: Alas, I’d better replace it, then. (looks in back) Sorry squire, I’ve had a look around the back of the shop, and uh, we’re right out of Brexits.

Mr. Praline: I see. I see, I get the picture.

Boris: I’ve got a bridge.

Mr. Praline: Pray, can it be built?

Boris: Nnnnot really.

Mr. Praline: WELL, IT’S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?

Boris: N-no, I guess not. 

Mr. Praline: Well.

Boris:  Do you … do you want to come back to my party?

Mr. Praline:  Yeah, all right, sure.

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