Ooh it’s all getting exciting now, don’t you think? I’ve known Theresa for aeons, give or take a yonk, and I’ve never seen her quite so nervous. But she had the good fortune to have been born in the OAP nirvana of Eastbourne where they learn the importance of sitting tight from an early age, otherwise I’m sure the poor dear would be rushing back and forth to the little room at no 10 as she awaits the result of this week’s Frexit - forgive me, Brexit - vote in the Commons.

Marks and Spencer

You, dear readers, will know how the whole shooting match went, but here at Frexit it’s deadline this and deadline that and it’s much as a girl can do to keep up with her own Ayurvedic vibration therapy classes. This week I had to pop up to Paddington Basin (or Darkest Peru) to slap dear old Archie Norman back down. They’ve taken to calling him ‘Severus’ as he tries to usurp ‘JK’ Rowe-ling, which is all rather cruel.

While it’s true that it’s been ages since M&S was even relevant, never mind magical, poor Archie hasn’t twigged that the chairman’s job is one of managing decline, and it took a little whisper from me to remind him that as long as he smiles sweetly and bigs up frumpy knickers and custard tarts he’ll be managing decline on a far bigger scale in the Lords before you can even say ‘Arla’.

It was just the first word that came to mind, darlings, probably because their rather dishy Danish CEO Peder Tuborgh wrote me a very nice note to complain that Britain’s courageous and halfwitted march towards freedom was costing him €400m. And guess who is going to be picking up the tab for that in the yoghurt aisle, long-suffering readers! It’s enough to drive a girl to, er, Carlsberg maybe?

Donna Pumsey, aka Ms Frexit, is our one-woman troubleshooter at the Department of Food Retail Exports Imports and Trade. You can follow her at @MsFrexit. Just not too closely.

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