Ursula von der Leynenyourpockets calls Sir Ikea Stammerer.
Ursula: Sir Ikea, how are things in London?
Stammerer: Hi, Ursa Major. Just dandy. One of my ministers accepts some freebie concert tickets and people want me guillotined.
Ursula: Concert tickets? Hah! Their banks are laundering cartel money and they bitch about free tickets.
Stammerer: What can you do? What the hell is…err… Slovenia doing?
Ursula (with the sound of Tusk and Orbandemocracy grunting and grappling): You’ve forgotten the PM’s name, haven’t you?
Stammerer: What is it then?
Ursula: Never mind that. Hostilities have broken out here in Brussels too.
Stammerer: What? Roister Doister Boris isn’t there, is he?
Ursula: No, but speaking of Boris, in a way; how would you like to rejoin the EU? I think the time is ripe.
Stammerer: Erm, what or who is that making all the grunting noises? Put us on group chat.
Orbandemocracy tries to slam dunk Tusk onto the conference table but the tricky Tusk sidesteps him and lands a knockout blow to the side of the Magyar’s head.
Ursula: I don’t think we can count on Poland and Hungary being allies anymore.
Stammerer: What? Errm…the EU? Yeah, of course I’d like to rejoin; you know that. But I said that we wouldn’t.
Ursula: But the polls say that the majority of Brits want back in.
Stammerer: Yeah, but partially, completely…y’know, it’s complicated.
MarcoNapoleon (who is listening in): Ah you rosbifs! It is not complicated. Show zem your ballz, Sir Crimea. You want in. We want you back. Let’s do zis.
Stammerer: Do you watch the news? You know, the far-riot rights…I mean, the far-right rights…the far-right riots…
MarcoNapoleon: Ze faht-raght riortz?
Tusk: No, the far-riot ri…hold on…the fat riot…I can’t say it…the flat-right…
Ursula (giggling like a schoolgirl): The fat-white wankers…
Victor Orbandemocrary (coming round): You calling me a fat, vhite vanker?
Stammerer: Jesus! Enough already! How do I sell it to the you-know whats? They’d set me adrift in the Channel in a rubber dinghy
Tusk: Surkarea, just promise Nigel Fararse… a cabinet post, a knighthood, a shitload of cash and get shot of your illegals…
Friedrich ‘Merc’ Merz: Send them to El Salvador.
Stammerer: I can’t do that.
Victor Orbantheopposition: Zend de fatty rotters to me. De righter, de better.
Stammerer (thinking): They’re all fuckin’ bonkers.
MarcoNapoleon: Tell your proles zat it’s for zeir protection. Against Vladimir Pudding and MacTrump an’ ‘iz tareeffs. Tell ‘em any ol’ bolleaux. Zat is what I do.
Ursula (thinking): God, I wanna shag him so badly…
Mark ‘MTV’ Rutte enters and announces: Well, the schit hash really hit the fan…the Shlovenian forces have been attacked.
Minority News Report 