First there were the warnings: if the UK leaves the European Union without a deal, supermarket shelves could go empty, medicines may run out, civil unrest might explode.

Then came the Brexit Box: an emergency chest created by a Leeds entrepreneur containing 60 freeze-dried meals and a fire starter, and sold to those so concerned a no-deal divorce might end in a minor apocalypse, they were willing to shell out £295 for such a bit of kit. Don’t laugh. Some 800 people have already bought one.

Now comes the survival course.

A special weekend to be held at the government-backed Emergency Planning College, in North Yorkshire, will teach attendees how to cope if Brexit all goes a bit Armageddon.

Dealing with prolonged food shortages, surviving mass blackouts, and emergency first aid will all be taught by a team of eight field-specific experts. So too will unarmed combat, self-defence and urban foraging – just in case law and order breaks down.

“Some people have said this stuff won’t happen – and perhaps they’re right,” Tom Linden, the survival expert behind the course, tells The Independent. “But I would say supermarkets are stockpiling food, the NHS has created contingency plans for medicine shortages and the army has been put on standby. So, if these institutions are preparing for the worst, what do they know the rest of us don’t? Maybe we should be preparing too.”

Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Show all 16 1 /16 Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Wakefield The Independent’s photographer Richard Morgan is examining his own country in the midst of Brexit’s chaos, scrutinising the contrasts of contemporary Britain and the ambivalence of modern Britishness. A mixture of messages about Britain outside Wakefield Cathedral: beginnings and ends, closing down, war, politeness, the circus. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Wakefield I get talking to a Polish man outside the bus station. He’s got a Polish gas mask tied to his bag and tells me that he ordered it from Polish eBay. He is on his way to see a band in Manchester that sing about the apocalypse and plans to wear the gas mask as a tribute. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Wakefield A hungry Romanian man begging in front of super-enlarged images of food. He must be experiencing an acute sense of alienation: unable even to spell the word ‘please’ in the language of the society in which he is trying to survive. After I took the photograph I added the missing ‘E’ to his sign in blue biro. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Wakefield Closing down continues, yet people continue to shop. The life of the high street is framed by these commercial announcements, silhouetted by their bright glow and sense of crisis. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Wakefield The Jamia Masjid Swafia Mosque is surrounded by high security fences, suggesting an attempt to protect itself from a local threat. There are surveillance cameras too, scanning, and they reach as high as the mosque’s crescent moon. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Doncaster The entrance to the Frenchgate Shopping Centre has been decorated with poetry by local poets. I suppose it is meant to brighten the place up. People walk by to do their shopping, surrounded by stories of the city and the Yorkshire region. A man waits in the hallway, uses the pillar for support, and is told of another thing he is lacking in his life. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Doncaster The walls of this cafe are adorned with paintings of what it’s not, of what it would like to be, perhaps, hanging there like negative mirrors, reflecting back into the emptiness the vibrancy of Parisian cafe culture in full bloom. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Doncaster I wonder if this place used to be a shop selling meaning to the unfulfilled, like some kind of high-street church. It has long since closed down, but the sign remains, playing a joke on the emptiness of the facade. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Doncaster An arcade in the town centre reserves its slot machines in three languages: English, Romanian, Polish. The lady who works there doesn’t know what the second two languages are, but says they get a lot of Eastern Europeans coming in. She tells me I’m better off photographing the ‘spice people’ - addicts to the recently emerging drug known as ‘spice’. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber York I follow a RAF parade through the streets, thinking about the relationship between the armed forces and the civilian high street. As they march past a casino, I consider the contrasting elements: control meets chance, order meets luck, preparation meets possibility. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber York A sign promising redevelopment is a year out of date. It is an exceptional thing to see in York's city centre and it stands out opposite a street of busy bars. Maybe it has been left there as a joke, or as a warning, or as a work of art. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber York The RAF parade lines up outside the Minster. I notice an arrangement of people that speaks to me about the role of women in modern British society: underrepresented, but central. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Scarborough Outside the the Grand Hotel there is a scene of contrasting ideas about Scarborough. Simultaneously, the town is represented by multiple images: a family holidaying, ideally; a solitary man smoking and staring out to sea; a town being attacked, under siege. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Scarborough I visit a cabaret show in the ballroom of the hotel. I look for a scene that portrays the stark differences between audience and performers: an injured, resting, healing limb serenaded by high-heeled sex appeal. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Scarborough A shop is closing down and is trying to get rid of its stock. There is a curious row of weapons on offer, and seemingly, like an afterthought, 'beach stuff'. Richard Morgan Britain before Brexit: Yorkshire and the Humber Scarborough A view of North Bay from the cloisters on the cliff edge. There are infinitely more perspectives that one can take, but I found this one and it affected me. The graffiti and the initials of the National Front darkened the view of the British seaside. Richard Morgan

Among the advice to be dished out on the course – set to include a combination of classroom and outdoor lessons – is that dog food is actually edible for human consumption in emergencies; and a candle and a ceramic plant pot can be turned into an effective makeshift heater.

“Which is useful to know anyway,” says Tom. “You never know when that will come in handy.”

Other key sections will be devoted to teaching attendees exactly what foods – and how – they should stockpile in advance of exit day, how to live for prolonged periods without electricity or running water, and what to do in the case of a terrorist attack.

Hang on. Terrorist attack? Caused by Brexit?

“We’re being told a no-deal would reduce the UK’s security so, of course, this is something that needs to be considered,” reckons Tom.

The 62-year-old is, for the avoidance of doubt, a self-confessed “prepper”.

At the height of the Cold War, he spent 12 years as an NCO with the Royal Observer Corps, a TA-style branch of the RAF responsible for helping coordinate contingency plans in the case of nuclear attack. For another four years, he worked with North Yorkshire County Council as a community defence adviser. Then, in the 90s, he wrote and published the widely praised manual, The Complete Nuclear Survival Guide.

As we speak in a Sheffield café today, there sits, outside, in the boot of his car an emergency food box, wind-up torch and water purifier. He’s not brought these along to demonstrate lessons the upcoming course will offer. Rather, he just carries them everywhere.

“You never know when disaster will happen,” he says. “Or, in this case, those are all quite useful to have in a breakdown too.”

The Brexit survival weekend was actually born out of a quarterly course the retired delivery driver runs on nuclear survival. During those sessions, attendees are taught how to build shelters, deal with extreme weather, light fires and generally survive during the predicted mass breakdown of civil society that would follow a nuclear attack.

But, sensing public unease about Brexit, the grandfather-of-five tweaked the main lessons and created the new course to deal with issues that might occur post-29 March. And that, he absolutely insists, is neither opportunistic nor scaremongering.

James Blake, the Leeds entrepreneur who created the Brexit Box (Reuters)

“Not at all,” he says. “The fear’s already there because of people – Remainers and experts, mainly – constantly telling us how bad things might be. I’m offering people a way to ease those worries because I’m an expert in planning for worst-case scenarios. If there are food shortages – and we’re being told there will be – I’m saying you don’t need to worry as long as you take time to prepare beforehand.”

After just a few days on sale, half the available places – costing a not inconsiderable £250 for the two days – have already sold. Although, it should be said, that’s only 25 people.

Perhaps it would have been more, admits Tom, but some may have been put off by the course’s dates: 13-14 April. Which is to say, a fortnight after Brexit day.

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“Well, two reasons for that,” he says. “Firstly, I don’t believe there’s any chance – deal or no deal – we will leave the EU on 29 March. And secondly, that was the earliest I could book the facilities at the EPC for anyway.”

He reflects on this a second: “Perhaps that’s one occasion where I wasn’t quite prepared enough.”

As for Tom himself, ironically enough, he voted Leave.

“I love Europe and its people – I’ve been all across it as a driver,” he says. “But I don’t believe the EU is a democratic institution. It’s unaccountable. I want decisions about Britain to be made in Britain by people who have been voted for. If getting that power back means some disruption, that’s a price worth paying.”