Theresa May gives Donna a secret mission to M. Barnier

As chief spokesthing for the department for Food Retail Exports Imports & Trade, I want to congratulate our boys on whatever it was that brought us out on to the nation’s high streets and in a good enough mood to spend some money. And may I wish our boys every success in repeating that achievement for all time to come, and in keeping Iceland at bay (a prayer much repeated in the boardrooms of Leeds, Welwyn and Holborn, if the results of last week’s Grocer 33 are anything to go by).

Happily we can now go back to normality, which these days means poor Theresa’s Cabinet falling apart like Bookcase Billy, a stupid inflated orange baby flying over Westminster (in Air Force One on his way to Turnberry) and a further increase in volume from Brexit headbangers to respect the result of a vote that frankly put the ‘pleb’ back into ‘plebicite’.

Not unreasonably, the grocers and fmcg plutocrats are beginning to get a bit hot under the collar at a government that is progressing towards a Brexit deal with the sure-footed accuracy of Raheem Sterling (George, do explain this joke to me once you’ve finished writing my column) and the pressure is mounting on your Prima Donna to ‘just get my finger out’, as one boss put it to me.

The following is classified, my darlings, but if I can’t trust a bunch of grocers then we have come to a pretty pass, haven’t we? Sweet Theresa herself has given me a secret mission to engage with the mildly dishy M. Barnier. I can’t say too much, but let’s just put it like this: I’m seeing m’learned friends this afternoon and will be delivering the writ in person. It’s batsh*t of course, wrecking any chance of a good outcome. Where did the PM get that idea?