For better or for worse, one of post-imperial Britain’s favoured methods of understanding itself has been through the prism of the royal family. We come together at royal weddings and jubilees, some like to say, while others do so in front of box sets of The Crown. Brexit, on the other hand, has long been a straight-up car metaphor. Cars are far and away the most popular way of understanding what might be happening to us. Remainers warn of “a car being driven off a cliff” or of Theresa May “running out of road”; Brexiteers talk of “taking the wheel” and “the open road”.

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Sensationally, these two streams have crossed (DON’T CROSS THE STREAMS!) in the matter of Prince Philip’s road accident. The crash – widely believed to have been orchestrated by Mohamed Al Fayed and MI6, though you won’t read that in the mainstream media – comes at a moment of high Brexit drama. And looking at HRH’s upturned vehicle, I wonder what its import can be, other than that certain things might be regarded as recklessly beyond the capabilities of our decrepit political system?

Then again, lesser vehicle analogies are available. Boris Johnson dragged Her Majesty’s press to the JCB headquarters in Staffordshire this morning, where he stood in front of a digger and pummelled the metaphor like it was a journalist asking questions about one of his criminal schoolfriends. Bros before backhoes, innit.

As you would expect of the ironicidal maniac, Boris used this undisguised leadership tilt to once more rail against “elites”. In fact, this week the erstwhile foreign secretary has begun pushing things much further than he has gone before on this front. “I think [Britons] will feel there’s been a great conspiracy by the deep state of the UK,” he told LBC this week, “the people who really run the country, to overturn the vote in the referendum.”

If you’re keeping a tally of such things, the two significant political figures most determined to mainstream that toxic Trump staple, the “deep state”, are Jeremy Corbyn’s senior aide, Andrew Murray – who invoked the deep state over two issues last September – and now Boris Johnson. Conclude from that what you will, but your answer should include the epithet “Bannon-frotters”.

Optimists may feel able to dismiss Johnson as a Chinese restaurant’s Churchill impersonator, but to watch him lie remorselessly in Staffordshire was to be reminded that he is still something far more sinister. It remains disturbing to see the media held captive in Buffalo Boris’s well, while he leers his terrible catchphrases down at them. “It writes the article or it gets the hose …” Johnson has been sewing the pieces of his prime minister suit together for such a long time now; the prospect of him getting to wear it has yet to be eliminated.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘Far be it from me to criticise the Bagpuss producers, but the decision to spin off the character of Professor Yaffle’s wife isn’t really working.’ Photograph: Tim Ireland/Xinhua/Barcroft Images

But what of the prime minister who Johnson is angling to replace? On Wednesday night, Theresa May treated us to yet another of those occasions where she emerges out of the No 10 door in signature angular fashion, says precisely nothing of substance, then jerks back in again. How many episodes of this show are there going to be? Far be it from me to criticise the Bagpuss producers, but the decision to spin off the character of Professor Yaffle’s wife isn’t really working.

In the wake of her promise to reach out in “constructive spirit” and “work harder at taking parliament with us”, No 10 let it be known that the only things May isn’t flexible on are a second referendum, a customs union, a single market, extending article 50, or dropping the threat of no deal. She’ll do anything for love, but she won’t do that, or that, or that, or that. Those. The point is: she’s changed.

That said, Jeremy Corbyn’s decision not to accept the cattle-prod May has graciously extended to him misunderstands the theatre. Corbyn prides himself on his historic success in keeping dialogue open during the Troubles, for instance, even though this vital role isn’t acknowledged in any of the significant books about these events. Like Steven Seagal in Under Siege 2, Corbyn’s “got medals that are so secret he can never show them to anybody”.

Even so, the Labour leader’s current position looks unworthy of the hour. His determination, however, can only have been strengthened by Tony Blair popping up to say he was wrong. Perhaps Mr Blair might consider going on the airwaves and demanding the opposite of what he wants? I can’t help feeling it would be 100% effective.

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For her part, May has decided to capitalise on the impasse by sending Corbyn a long and intense letter about being ghosted. Do print all these out as they come, and you can burn them for warmth in the event of no deal. In the meantime, May has until Monday evening to come up with a workable plan B.

On that note, you might have been surprised to read a well-briefed story on the front of the Times today, revealing that she will block a future peerage for Speaker John Bercow, on the basis of his growing taste for shithousery (I paraphrase slightly). To which the only response can be: is Brexit over? No, but is it? Are we actually in the sunlit uplands and none of us noticed? Because I think we all want confirmation that every last agreement has been nailed down and every last bonanza trade deal has been signed before No 10 spends one pissing second of its dwindling time briefing about whether ermine will or will not be forthcoming, for anyone, at some unspecified point in the future.

Is anyone trying to get on top of plan B? According to reports, it’s David Lidington. The entity always described as “the de facto deputy prime minister” is apparently holding talks with senior opposition politicians, along with Brexit secretary Stephen Barclay – also believed to be an urban myth – and Michael Gove.

The latter, of course, we are aware of, which makes his shortening leadership odds all the more eyecatching. In the immediate wake of the referendum, you will recall, Michael’s actions were regarded as the Tories’ personal knife-crime problem. After he backstabbed his Vote Leave buddy Boris Johnson, Michael’s behaviour was widely regarded as too disgusting for the Conservative party. Indeed, it was helpful to note Boris Johnson giving a shout-out to Northern Powerhouse minister Jake Berry in his speech this morning, because Berry’s only other claim to fame has been two July 2016 tweets reading, “I do not for one moment resile from my opinion that as a traitor Gove leaves Judas Iscariot standing”, and “there is a very deep pit reserved in hell for such as he. #Gove.” Well. We all live in that pit now, and “Safehands” Gove is being touted by some as our best hope for avoiding a deeper one. Farce could easily repeat itself as history.

Ah yes, history. In the run-up to the predictably vast defeat of her withdrawal deal on Tuesday night, May was in full delusional mode. “When the history books are written,” she hazarded, “people will ask: did we deliver on the vote to leave? Or did we deliver for the economy and security?” Ah. I hate to travel back from the future with spoilers, but the history books end up making this period of British history a sealed section. Its contents are deemed too spectacularly grotesque to consume without a warning.

• Marina Hyde is a Guardian columnist