Political column

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Roses are red, violets are blue,

The economy will tank, if we're not in the EU.

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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling that's Theresa May,

And March 29 is all too short a date.

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Darling, darling, daahling!

You don't know who I am. Well, actually you do, but you will not know about my heaving chest, my shortness of breath, my passion, and my love, which I have hidden until now. But no more.

Oh, if only I could stroke that tantalising beard of yours. I have admired you from afar, and I have admired you up close.

I am worried, darling Jeremy, that you may think I have been stand-offish. It is true that it has taken me some time to realise what has been happening and how much I need you, yes NEED YOU. I am DESPERATE.

I am surrounded by fools and false friends and you are a new-found beacon of loveliness and hope in my life. I don't believe a word of what they are saying about you in that nasty new book.

What great things we could achieve together.

There is, my love, just one small obstacle to our destiny, a fly in the ointment without which I would CU in a new and yet more loving light. CU! Ha, ha, just my little joke, because behind this forbidding exterior I do have a sense of humour, you know.

It's that customs union thing. I know that Keir and Emily have been spreading their poison and whispering in your ear.

If you care for me at all, you have to prove to me whether you are a man or a mouse.

Stand up to them and say you don't want it. Then we can face the future together. This is more than love. It is duty.

I might even get you a new coat.

I know it's not your style, but if you want one of those robes with ermine trimming, just let me know as I might be able to arrange it.

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Esteemed comrade,

Brotherly and sisterly greetings, and all inclusive and non-discriminatory things in between.

In relation to the subject under discussion, let me be perfectly clear about my policy.

All options are open.

Please accept my gift of an artichoke. I grew it myself.

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Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all’s over;

You only vex me the more you try.

All’s wrong that ever you’ve done or said,

And nought to help it in your dull head:

Shake hands, here’s luck, goodbye.

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For 40 or so years we got on so well,

Now, for you, there's a place in hell.

And I'm sure you know where hell is,

Yours, Donald, Brussels – kiss.

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Jeez!

You are one dainty gal.

And I'm handsome, and humble, and intelligent, and rich. Everybody loves me.

There are some really ugly broads about, and if I wasn't such a gentleman, I'd say so.

But you are really peachy. Howsabout you coming over to my place again? And not just to hold hands this time.

I've just got some business to attend to with some goddamn lousy mothers ('scuse my language), but when I'm done I'd love to take you on a trip to see my big, beautiful wall.

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Order! Order!

They call you "The Speaker."

And the sound of that voice makes my knees go weaker.

To you, my love, I pledge my devotion,

If only you'll approve my Commons motion.