Theresa May seems to think everyone will follow her down the rabbit hole of fantasy Brexit madness

In her current state, it’s possible the PM will decide to make a TV address three times a day, marching onto the set of Masterchef to declare herself emperor

At this point our prime minister’s argument appears to be: “Look, you twats, I’VE managed to agree to the thing I want, so why can’t you?”

When Theresa May bought her house, I expect she told the estate agent “I’ll give you £30 for that six-bedroom Tudor cottage with 20 acres of land.” And when they said: “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” she screamed: “But I’VE agreed to it so stop holding everything up.” And then stood outside the house with a megaphone, yelling to the people who live there: “I am on your side.”

Because she does seem committed to this deal she came up with, to the extent that we ought to be more sympathetic, as it’s clearly an issue. She probably sleeps with it under her armpit, takes it with her when she goes to the toilet, and gives it a name like dealy-wheely and clutches it while she’s eating and if anyone goes near it she makes a growling noise like an angry cat.

In her next TV address she’ll hold up a puppy and say: “Support my deal or I’ll set him on fire.”

In her current state, it’s possible she’ll decide to make a TV address three times a day, like Castro or Idi Amin, marching onto the set of Masterchef to announce: “In order to stop these awkward b****** MPs who ruin our country by not agreeing with me, I have declared myself emperor because I am on your side. And that’s not how you roast an artichoke, you do it MY way.”

We’re close to this already, because Jeremy Hunt told us that in a hung parliament, MPs have a responsibility to agree with the prime minister. Indeed, they should not only vote for her deal, but yell: “All hail the mighty deal of her magnificent eminence o slayer of wheat, may her voice croak in everlasting glory.”

But we’re so used to this madness we just accept it now. So it seems natural that, a few days after telling us it was essential she asked the EU for a “long extension”, she tells us that to ask for a “long extension” would be a dreadful betrayal of the British people.

Similarly she was absolutely definitely going to put her deal to a vote, right up to the moment she told us she couldn’t possibly put her deal to a vote, and she was utterly completely TOTALLY not having an election though she was going to have an election.

It wouldn’t be surprising if next week, she said: “So I insist you vote for my deal. Mind you I’m not voting for it, it’s a s*** deal and anyone who votes for it is a traitor.”

When she finally resigns, accounts of her time as prime minister will be adapted and read to children through generations, as an updated version of Alice in Wonderland, that will go like this:

“Alice said to the prime minister, ‘I hope you get the long extension you said was an absolute necessity’.

‘Oh no,’ said the prime minister, ‘I said I needed a long extension because I hate long extensions. I never want to ever have a long extension, they’re a disaster.’

Then they walked through the forest to meet the old Brexit secretary, who hated the negotiated Brexit deal. ‘You must be very cross with the idiots who negotiated it,’ said Alice.

‘Yes I am,’ said the old Brexit secretary, ‘it was me, and anyone who agrees with the deal I negotiated is a traitor.’

‘Who’s that peculiar looking creature?’ asked Alice.

‘That’s Jacob,’ said the prime minister, ‘he hates the elite who own the forest. He owns all the forest’.”

The craze for power is terrifying when it comes from Robert Mugabe or Putin, but with this lot it’s baffling, like someone telling you “do as I say or there will be trouble” while stood in back-to-front pyjamas outside Poundland while a dog pisses up their leg.

All this chaos is essential, apparently, because we have to uphold the wishes of the 17.4 million people who voted to leave the EU. But no one can know how many of them would have voted that way if they’d known it would go like this, and the latest poll suggests 63 per cent would choose to remain in the EU rather than accept Theresa May’s deal.

So there must be several million people thinking: “I don’t want you to uphold my wishes. I’ve changed my mind.” And they’re being told: “Well you CAN’T, we’re upholding your wishes whether you want us to or not.”

It was all done to take back control from the EU, and in keeping with the rest of this debacle, it’s resulted in the EU having more control over us now than ever before.

In the short term, there must be some legal procedure someone can find to sort this out. Maybe John Bercow will invoke a Fruitbat clause from 1594, which states: “Should the House heretofore find itself at mercie of a great and plentiefull measure of fruitbats, the parliament must without prejudice be filled with ox droppings and begun again with saner souls.”

Because another opinion poll this week revealed 90 per cent agree the negotiations are a “national humiliation”, which says something extremely disturbing – that 10 per cent of the country thinks this is going well.

Because we’re being humiliated daily; by next week Jeremy Hunt will start a press conference in Brussels, and Donald Tusk will say: “Hang on, foreign secretary, you’ve wet yourself,” and come on with a mop.

So at this point, revoking Article 50 isn’t enough. We need to ask the Romans to come and take over again for a while, so we can start again.