On my mind

RUMOUR has it that Boris De Pfeffel emerged from his meal of steamed turbot and scallops with Ursula von der Leyen waving a piece of paper reminiscent of Neville Chamberlain in 1938.

However, it seemed he had picked up the bill for the flat fish caught in some very disputed waters.

To his dismay there was no agreement to share the catch and the meal was not oven ready.

Some had hoped that this was not a repeat of the disastrous Munich Agreement offering ‘peace for our time’ but something more appealing to the European consumer, such as ‘peas for our time’.

Although we grow 93% of the green peas we eat, France is the largest producer of peas, and German green pea soup, when stirred with a Frankfurter Würstchen, is a huge favourite among ledenhosen wearers.

Like Chamberlain, de Pfeffel may have brought home a promise to assure the peas of Europe, an appeasement and non-aggression pact to avoid future conflict around leguminous vegetables.

However, as a classics scholar De Pfeffel will be aware of Juvenal’s poem ‘The Emperor’s Turbot’ in which we read the chilling lines: “A turbot, destined to this happy hour. I sought him not; he marked the toils I set, And rushed, a willing victim, to my net.”

So was the unsuspecting British prime minister, rushing to Brussels to eat fish with the Europeans, ensnared and trapped like a turbot?

The choice of dessert was also intriguing – a pavlova, a recipe originating in Australia, the perfect end to the Brexit menu.

When you read this article the deal may be done, or not.

One thing is clear – any deal will be a fudge, a sweet which has its origin in a dysfunctional USA, our closest ally.

Happy Brexmas.