The pampered life of an MEP is about to get even cushier

We are trapped in a deranged Brexit vortex, while our can-kicking Prime Minister seems determined to extend this farcical state of limbo, whatever the cost. Each day of insecurity increases the likelihood of our one day being governed by a committed Marxist, still mentally wearing a Che Guevara T-shirt, whose economic policies are several marrows short of an allotment. Apart from that, Mrs Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?

But for a lucky and resolutely idle few, Article 50’s delay could also be the start of a workers’ playtime of indeterminate length. If you’re feeling the Brexit blues, why not stand as a MEP in this zombie ministry?

Imagine a job which combines the perks of being an MP (such that they are) with none of the transparency or accountability, and much less work. After all, there would be little point in British MEPS tackling any sizeable projects until our future in the bloc becomes more secure.

Not only do MEPS earn more than their humble Westminster counterparts, the Brussels bubble shields them from the probing of pesky journalists. Nor must they undertake the onerous task of giving the public a glimpse of their famously open-handed expenses. Thanks to an EU Parliament ruling last year, these are now subsumed within the mere bagatelle of almost £4,000 a month paid directly into their accounts on top of the daily £280 they get for “subsistence” just for turning up (even better, this is in addition to their salary).

Even the most corrupt MEP would have little danger of being heckled or even recognised in the street. Few of us know who our MEP is, given the paltry turnouts for EU elections. There is far less mingling with hoi polloi than for our Westminster

parliamentarians – “constituency surgeries” are tricky for those representing millions at a time.

The only obvious downside is the inconvenience of packing for the monthly travelling circus, when the entire European Parliament relocates from Brussels to Strasbourg for no other reason than to massage French egos. This charade costs an estimated €114million (£98million) a year.

But consider the perks. Granted, we may not offer quite the largesse of the Italian system, with its taxpayer-funded haircut allowance, but few other jobs give new recruits three different offices – one in your constituency, one in Belgium and another in France. While the expenses scandal transformed our politics a decade ago, the spiritual heirs of the duck house and moat repairs gang thrive across the Channel. Brussels MEPS, the gatekeepers of the liquid lunch in today’s more abstemious corporate landscape, can order champagne and whisky to be served at their desks.

My advice to our future MEPS is this: since this will be an illegitimate, zombie Parliament, why not behave like zombies? Enact the well-paid bureaucrats’ answer to civil disobedience by getting drunker than Juncker. Heckle from the back. Nap at your desk. Filibuster, wreck, drink, repeat. Someone, besides the high end restaurateurs of Brussels and Strasbourg, must benefit from this depressing betrayal of democracy – and hopefully treat Britain’s presence in the next Parliament with the respect it deserves. Who knows, I might even join you.