Theresa May was asked if Brexit was worth it, and nobody heard the answer

The best that could be said of Theresa May's statement on Brexit was that she was no longer stuck in a chimney

Online debate over Theresa May's housing speech focused on whether she was either stuck in a chimney or down a well (BBC)

Often, listening to Theresa May feels like sticking your head between two mirrored wardrobe doors and seeing your own reflection self-replicate into infinity.

No Theresa May speech is complete without countless references to previous Theresa May speeches, to the extent where even if you and the Prime Minister are in the same room, you cannot be 100 per cent certain you are not watching some sort of cassetteboy-style Youtube mashup of Theresa May speeches.

At her Mansion House speech on Friday, scarcely a paragraph began in any other fashion than “as I said on the steps of 10 Downing Street” or “as I said in my Lancaster House speech” or “as I set out in my Florence speech”.

It is, arguably, a clever tactic. If you make claims that you have absolutely no evidence for, in public, enough times, then when these claims are raised (rather than having to actually justify them) you can instead refer back with withering resentment to the countless times you have made them.

For example, there must surely be millions of people out there convinced there will be “no return to a hard border in northern Ireland” for no other reason than Theresa May continually insists there won’t be, and for no other reason than she is “committed” to it not happening.

It is a wonder others haven’t cottoned on. Imagine if eight-year-olds up and down the land knew that all they had to do was to give a range of set-piece speeches, making clear they are “absolutely committed” to never stealing biscuits from the tin, then when suddenly eight bourbons have gone missing nobody could possibly suspect them, because they are, after all, “absolutely committed” to not stealing them.

It is also customary now for Theresa May’s set piece Brexit interventions to occur on a Friday afternoon, after which she reappears on Monday to say the same thing all over again to the House of Commons, and then refuse to give any meaningful answers to questions on the matter.

Monday was no exception to this rule – the only vague difference being that, for reasons best known to her, she had spent the morning stuck in a chimney. Her apparently big speech on housing was entirely overshadowed by the truly mad decision to stand in front of a brick wall backdrop and behind a wonky brick wall lectern, whose bricks were slightly smaller and in no way matched the backdrop.

On television, it lent the Prime Minister’s big speech on housing the air of some kind of strange home counties woman on a low budget daytime TV game show. In fact, those who switched on their TVs on Monday morning hoping to watch some kind of strange home counties woman on a low-budget daytime TV game show may not even have known to change the channel.

The housing crisis is arguably the most serious crisis the government faces, with the public justifiably angry about it. But no one, it appears, is angry enough about it to actually listen to anything the Prime Minister had to say on the matter, in favour of firing out snarky observations about the quite ridiculous set. Mainly, the online debate centred on whether she was either poking her head out of a chimney or stuck down a well. Was her commitment to solving the housing shortage so determined that she had built a bungalow around her while she spoke? Was this brick edifice a first look at the prototype for the “soft” Irish border?

Anyway. By the afternoon she was back in the Commons, safe inside the more familiar setting of crumbling, dilapidated masonry that is shortly to cost the public around £6.6bn to sort out. Still, at least that’s two new houses – Commons and Lords – so no one can complain they’re not getting value for money.

Theresa May remains in a tricky position, Brexit-wise. Her troublesome cabal of backbenchers – and indeed frontbenchers – remain adamant that the only acceptable course of action is to quit the customs union to sign free trade deals with other countries. The fact that, over the course of the weekend, the most important country in this regard – the US – is now actively engaged in ramping up a global protectionist trade war, is unfortunate to say the least.

Last Monday, Jeremy Corbyn said he wanted to remain in “a customs union”, and was promptly savaged by the Brexit Secretary David Davis for throwing away “one of the great prizes” of Brexit: namely to do trade deals with others.

Even between Friday’s speech and Monday’s repetition of said speech, we have had a clearer look at what that “prize” looks like. We found out on Monday afternoon that Trump’s officials made it clear in private meetings in January that when British airlines left the EU, they would almost certainly be charged more to operate flights between the UK and the US.

We also know that agriculture would “definitely” have to play a part in a UK/US trade deal, forcing the UK Government to lower food standards, paving the way for one of the “great prizes of Brexit” – chlorine-washed chicken. And that too leads directly to another of Brexit’s great “prizes”.

The only way to maintain differing agricultural standards on the island of Ireland is with – you’ve guessed it – with the hard border that Theresa May again ruled out, again without offering any insight whatsoever as to how she is going to do it.

Toward the end, the Labour MP Stephen Doughty asked her the same question she was asked last week and did not answer: “Is Brexit worth it?”

The parliamentary transcript records she replied with the word “yes”, though neither the TV cameras nor anyone more than three yards away from her managed to hear it.

Don’t be surprised if that particular subaudible speech never quite makes it into the pantheon of Theresa May speeches to be quoted ad infinitum by Theresa May in other Theresa May speeches. I suspect it may not stand the test of time.