In a move that has sent shivers of delight down the spines of Brexiteers and caused the collective monocle of the Foreign Office to pop clean off, the government has announced a 'landmark trade deal' with the Association of Southeast Asian Nations. Or ASEAN, as the cool kids call it. This is the deal that will finally put the 'Great' back into Britain, or so we're told. But let's get our tongues firmly in cheeks and examine this declaration.
The signing ceremony, held in a room that smelled faintly of stale biscuits and misplaced optimism, featured the requisite handshakes and grimaces. The Prime Minister, looking like a man who has just been told his favourite brand of gin is being discontinued, declared this the 'dawn of a new era of prosperity'. Meanwhile, the ASEAN representatives stood there, smiling politely, possibly wondering when the tea would be served.
The specifics of the deal? Well, it's all very hush-hush. But we can expect a surge in imports of durian fruit, which is the only fruit that smells like a tramp's armpit and tastes like regret. In return, the UK will export our finest products: queue management systems, damp weather, and an unending supply of sarcasm. It's a fair trade, I'm sure.
The financial sector, as ever, is rubbing its hands with glee. They see opportunities for offshore banking and tax avoidance with a touch of exotic spice. And the remaining British manufacturing? They're preparing for a new wave of slap bracelets and novelty mugs. A nation on the up.
But let's not get carried away. This is the same government that promised a trade deal with India that would 'singe the eyebrows off the competition'. That deal is still floating somewhere in the ether, like a particularly persistent fart. So, will this ASEAN deal be any different? The crystal ball is hazy, but there's certainly the glint of a few million in consultancy fees.
In the pubs of Westminster, the reaction is predictably one of muted hysteria. 'It's a game changer!' says a man whose tie is slightly askew and whose breath smells of gin. 'We'll be exporting Parliament to Bangkok!' His companion nods, then forgets what they were talking about.
And so, we welcome our new ASEAN overlords. May their durian be ripe and their jokes about British weather be well-received. For now, we raise a glass of airport gin and salute the dawn of a trade partnership that will, at the very least, provide some excellent material for satirists.
