Love Island is the answer.
Don’t pretend you don’t know Love Island. Everybody, like, knows it. It’s, like, everything.
In the show, the buff and the gleaming-toothed youth of Britain sit by a pool and talk in circular conversations, with rising inflection about who will couple with whom. And how. I watched it this week for the first time expecting a descent into a Bacchanalian free-for-all. But it was much more tame, more millennial than that. Less touchy-feely, more, like, chatty-chatty.
The key thing to remember is there is a cash prize for the last couple standing. It’s in their interest to find, in Brexit-speak, an accommodation. And so almost immediately the poolside collective topping up their tans are more focused on their goals than just about everybody attempting to establish the future of Britain post-March 2019. If Laura and Dani and Eyal and Alex (and the rest) can do it, why can’t Boris and David (I’ll resign, no I won’t, yes I will, no I won’t) Davis and Gove and Rees-Mogg and any others you wish to lob in.
While the Remain side don’t always do themselves favours – the doomsday scenario of food shortages and zombie apocalypse that was run up by some senior civil servants is so outlandish it is easily poo-pooed, and doesn’t help legitimate, measured future modelling – there is growing evidence of trouble ahead.
The EU car-manufacturing industry is planning for a future using fewer British-made parts due to rising costs. This, clearly, will have a massive knock-on effect for manufacturing jobs, many in pro-Brexit areas. And yet, despite this, the government remains locked in an internecine battle that has got to the point where Boris Johnson, the foreign secretary, says that Donald Trump would be better placed to handle negotiations than Theresa May.