A man walks into a bar. With a giraffe.
He says to the barman, “Pint for me, pint for the giraffe.” And so begins the greatest joke in the English language. Or, to some people whom I have repeatedly told this, the worst joke in the English language.
Part of the problem with it is that the punchline – and we’ll get there, don’t panic – written down, is open to misinterpretation. And disappointment. And also tedium. Some people may insist they want to get to the end, but others decide for that, for them, they want another joke, a joke that speaks for them more clearly.
It is in many ways a metaphor for Brexit.
Though, actually, it’s not. This has, so far, been a clumsy attempt to make…
