Prorogue it all, prorogue absolutely everything, and do not un-prorogue any of it until it promises to do better

Prorogue the Queen as well. She’ll only un-prorogue everything if you don’t

Oh just prorogue everything. Bring in black rod, with her little sword. Send for the serjeant-at-arms to pick up the mace and, if at all possible, spray it directly into my eyes.

I’ve seen enough. I’ve had it. I’m done.

Prorogue Dominic Cummings, wandering out from his north London townhouse, pastel blue jumper tossed over his shoulder like an Alan Turing cosplay character, telling the waiting journalists to “get out of London and talk to some people who aren’t rich Remainers”.

Prorogue this absurd “man of the people schtick”, from a private schoolboy who has married into the landed gentry, has his own “tapestry room” and whose principal achievement in public life, at the age of 47, is to deliver a billion-pound payday to some very grateful hedge fund managers who short-sold Britain overnight in June 2016.

Prorogue the honours system. That should have been done years ago. Prorogue Geoffrey Boycott, sorry Sir Geoffrey Boycott, who is only too happy to go on the radio and announce that he voted Leave in protest against the French criminal justice system that convicted him for assaulting his girlfriend in a French hotel room in 1998 (something he has always denied). Because all that’ll change once we’re out. Course it will. Prorogue all that right away.

Prorogue Theresa May as well, if she can be prised away from pointing at potholes for long enough. Did no one tell her that, given she was filmed and recorded in 2016 saying David Cameron’s own resignation honours list “made her retch”, she would be somewhat exposed doing her own, identical, arguably even more egregious one?

Presumably no one did, because it would have been either Nick Timothy or Fiona Hill’s job to do that, and she had to sack them in 2017 for their role in running the worst general election campaign of modern times, wrecking her career, her party and indeed her country.

It would have been their job to tell her, for example, not to give both of them CBEs, but because she sacked them, no one did.

If Nick Timothy, in particular, had he still been around, might have been able to advise her that giving Nick Timothy a CBE would be a very foolish move, because Nick Timothy has spent the last two years writing weekly newspaper columns blaming her for various things for which he was sacked.

If you really wanted to, you might be prepared to defend David Cameron’s resignation honours list, in that his entirely reckless gamble ended their careers, and thus a few letters after their names might perhaps be of some vague comfort whilst staring at the phone and hoping it might ring.

Theresa May, on the other hand, has ennobled the people who finished her off. It is not a mistake you can imagine her hero, Sir Geoffrey Boycott, making.

Prorogue all that then. And prorogue indefinitely the House of Commons.

Prorogue the Labour Party, and its MPs writing the word ‘SILENCED’ on pieces of paper and waving them about in the chamber of the House of Commons at 1am.

Protest is the recourse for those who do not have political power. There is an election that’s not happening and a no-deal Brexit that’s been delayed, at least for the time-being, that will show you the Labour Party still has plenty of it.

They don’t want you to know about that though, that’s why Jeremy Corbyn has already started campaigning for the election he himself blocked. So prorogue him as well.

Prorogue the SNP. All they want to do is prorogue the United Kingdom, so prorogue them at once. Prorogue the Brexit Party, the grandest political con there has ever been. It has somehow convinced several million people that no-deal Brexit is in their interests, while knowing full well that the moment those people find out the truth will be the moment it is too late.

Prorogue the Lib Dems, who’ll take absolutely anyone, illiberal, anti-democrat or otherwise. Prorogue the Greens. I don’t know why, but there’s bound to be a reason, there always is.

Prorogue the Queen. She’ll only un-prorogue everything if you don’t.

Prorogue Jacob Rees-Mogg, while we’re here. Prorogue his suits that don’t fit and his made-up voice.

Prorogue John Bercow, prorogue “chuntering from a sedentary position”, prorogue “pettifogging objections”, prorogue “soothing medicaments”, prorogue it all as a matter of public emergency.

Prorogue the negotiations that aren’t even happening. Prorogue Boris Johnson, prorogue every word that escapes from his unbearable gob, not one of which has been true in the last six abysmal weeks.

Prorogue the backstop, prorogue the withdrawal agreement. Prorogue the people as well. They voted for all this.

Prorogue the second referendum, prorogue the first referendum. Bring back David Cameron and prorogue him immediately.

Prorogue it all up and prorogue away the key.

All of British politics, every last bit of it is in absolutely dire need of prorogation. And do not de-prorogue until it’s had a long, desperate look at itself and promised to do better. Then prorogue it again.