By Julia Moore

...there was a tiny Kingdom, ruled by a kindly, yet ever-so-slightly-exasperated Monarch. Although the Monarch worked hard each day, the years of dealing with a, frankly, silly family, was taking its toll. To say nothing of the waving and smiling. The nation had, the Monarch thought, become, well, loopy. Once a grandiose people, charting unknown places to discover there NOT be dragons, nor ye globe was NOT flat, the tiny Kingdom now wallowed in a fuzzy state of mind. With one face, it looked towards the West, where there be cowboys, both literally and metaphorically, and with the other, to the East, where there be mysterious balms and spices, plus tall skyscrapers, with lots of money. However, the Kingdom did not sit easily with its nearest neighbours, across the shimmering Channel. All of a suddenly (although he had been lurking in the Kingdom for some time, awaiting his moment), a wild-haired jester-minstrel began singing unto crowds of people, in parks, taverns, and via the internet….

….. ‘Time for change’, sang the Jester, ‘let merchants and cordwainers be rid of the institutions across the water, with their silly rules and regulations’...’good and fine people of this tiny Kingdom have no need of burdensome paperwork, apart from the disadvantaged and the oppressed, whose numbers were, mysteriously, growing’. He stopped shouting for a moment, to reflect on the dialectical irony contained within his oratory. And then he continued...

..….’We want our Kingdom back, we want drawbridges around every precarious coastal point in the UK and knights with pointy-sticks to keep away the bad men from Brussels - as for the women, we shall just be rude to them, and make them cry (Christine Lagarde quivvers)....’  We shall do trade ye old fashioned way - each sector will make personal links with sectors in all 28 nations, and be friends with them, offering them beer and Victoria Sandwich cake, in return for unfettered wealth. All sector-leaders will speak all 28 languages -  at once -  in every meeting, and emerge with trade agreements so complex, and so incomprehensible, that the legal minds throughout the lands could not fathom’. Again, he stopped for a bit, to think about what he had said….'actually, scrap that idea, let’s all speak with a Yorkshire accent instead, t’will be better’...

...and so on and on went the wild-haired Jester. People liked him, on the whole. Even if they did not like his politics, the Jester was entertaining, personable, and provided inexpensive entertainment. It came to pass that the Jester, when not jesting, was a clever man, who had studied at the finest institutions in Europe. Furthermore, it is rumoured he had even spoken to a few foreign people, and wrote learned tomes, some in joined-up writing. But he had enemies, because this is a fairy-story and you have to have an enemy (EU Directive no.346). The Monarch’s trusted official, head of a team of knights who, notionally ran the Kingdom (when not distracted by large companies) now thought the Jester no longer funny. Once, they had been friends, raised together and shared jam-sandwiches. They had been as brothers. But now the trusted official believed that the Jester wanted his seat/chair/office, and was sad/mad. The trusted official once wanted the Kingdom to return to ye olde days too, but had changed his mind after a day’s outing to Brussels. Here, he had a nice ice-cream (with chips, probably) but was largely ignored by the important people, who ran the larger Kingdom of 28 nations - they were a bit busy doing other things at the time, apparently. He liked his day trip and, thereafter, firmly believed that the tiny Kingdom should stay friends with the larger Kingdom.

One day, out of the morning mist, a man from Greece arrived, commenting on how confusing this geo-socio-economic political situation seemed, and read the runes, providing and alternative view. Once, he had been part of the inner sanctum of knowledge, in the larger Kingdom, and liketh not what he did saw. Now, de-shekled from his office, and no longer a Trusted Official in his country, he spake of a new economics - one where large organisations could make as much mullah as they wanted, yet helped the peoples who created it, funding hospitals and schools to support the system which requires the peoples to be educated citizen, fit and healthy. This, it seems, was too simple for most folk to follow, but they tried, even if they segued into watching kittens on the internet , instead of trying to understand more about the geo-political scenario.

Thus, having confused himself, his fellow Knights-in-Government, and all the peoples of the tiny Kingdom, the trusted official now set about convincing people to wave nicely to the folk across the sea, whilst the Jester recommended ‘boo-ing’, like they would do in panto-theatre, in the future. How will the story end?….well, like most fairy-stories, the good people, with the high moral ideals might prevail over the bad and silly. In this tale, however, we simply do not know who is good and who is bad…., Jester, Trusted Official, funny folk of Brussels, the man from Greece, or the confused people, and so, for all we know, we will just have to keep on waving…...or boo-ing……for ever, and ever, until we all live happily ever after (EU Directive 459).