Wethers Creamy

I’m a little slow these days, and I’m sad to say I don’t really understand the difference between a customs union and, let’s say, a bag of old socks. And, talking of Mr Corbyn, it’s good that he is now fiercely championing whatever it was, which is quite different from what he was doing before. Which was making jam and watching Arsenal go from strength to strength.

Comrade Corbyn is actually quite a nice man. Whenever he pops in for his Werther’s Originals (£1.45/135g) we generally spend a little time chewing the fat, which coincidentally is pretty much all you could do in Soviet-era Czechoslovakia. Heaven only knows why that connection came to mind, but it didn’t seem to do Mr Corbyn any harm - he’s as skinny as a rake.

I suppose in some ways it’s a pity that Labour didn’t let us all know a little earlier that making trade pointlessly expensive with our main economic partners would lead to economic ruin for all of the hard-working families they represent. It must have slipped their minds, I suppose, among all the really pressing issues like cultural relations with Venezuela.

Better late than never, I suppose. In any case, Mr Rees-Mogg was awfully upset when he came in for some toilet paper and 10 green Bic Biros (link save: £7). No idea what he’s going to do with those, though I suspect another waspish letter to Mrs May from the European Research Group is in the offing.

Anyway, he said Mrs Soubry was going to let Mr Corbyn in by the back door, which sounded slightly alarming. But these are strange times, and I’m getting my seasonal aisle geared up for an election night party, just to be on the safe side.

Pat Smart

Exploits of a Westminser c-store owner