A few weeks ago, Boris Johnson insisted in one of the Conservative leadership hustings that the chances of no deal were a million to one against. Smash cut to him assembling a “war cabinet” to step up no-deal Brexit plans and work round the clock under the assumption that no deal is definitely going to happen.

At this news the pound fell at an alarming rate, pretty much acting in the opposite manner to Johnson on a zipline, and hit a new 28-month low. On the bright side, we will soon hit parity with the euro, essentially finally joining to the currency by the back door, and it’s all thanks to Brexiteers.

So how has the emergency committee decided to prepare us for something pretty much unprecedented in British history in three months’ time? While sitting around in the Cobra briefing room – normally reserved for national emergencies that we haven’t brought upon ourselves – Johnson and his team decided to talk about leafleting. The government will launch a new campaign to inform the whole country about no-deal preparations, with costs expected to run into nine figures.

A few years after Theresa May looked a nurse dead in the eye and said “There’s no magic money tree”, here they are spending £100m on a leaflet explaining how best to eat your dog. These leaflets will have the difficult job of assuring everyone that everything is going to be fine while also containing enough information to convince the EU that we’re taking it seriously and are prepared to go through with it. They have to tell people “This is what you wanted, isn’t it great” but also “Here are some steps you can take so you don’t die in November”.

It’s a tough balancing act, but I have decided to offer my copywriting services, as a patriotic duty:

Section 1: The following pets are now food

‘There’s no problem here that can’t be solved by reclassifying Mr Biggles as food.’ A dog at a People’s Vote march in London, March 2019. Photograph: Kirsty Wigglesworth/AP

Remainers and people that ship food in and out of the country on a regular basis (eg major supermarkets) would have you believe that there will be shortages in parts of the country on 1 November, as 30% of our supplies come from the EU.

Where’s their blitz spirit? Did you know (true story) that we massacred over 750,000 of our own dogs and cats at the beginning of the second world war? OK, that wasn’t about serving them up for Sunday lunch, but making sure we didn’t have to worry about keeping them fed. I say kill two birds with one stone: there’s surely no problem here that can’t be solved by reclassifying Mr Biggles as food. Recipes on page nine.

Section 2: Blackouts are nature’s way of telling you to go to bed

Everybody loves camping off-grid, seeing the stars come out and hearing the wildlife emerge from the woods. When the blackouts come, try to think of Birmingham as your tent.

Section 3: Have you considered not having diabetes?

The remoaner elite – in these specific circumstances comprised of our own ministers, advisers and facts – say that no deal could disrupt supply lines through ports, with longer checks on goods causing a backlog of medicines trapped at borders and eventually going to waste. To this, and without any real reason or proof, we say nah, that won’t happen, probably.

I ask you this: if we’re going to deny these realities – which it’s very much clear we are – would it really kill you to pretend you don’t have diabetes for a bit? Hmm? Have a little try for me, there’s a good chap.

Section 4: Fill your bathtub with water if you want to live

‘Keep water in your bathtub in case you need to drink it for a month.’ Photograph: Michele Adamson/Getty Images/EyeEm

Chemicals to clean water might not make it into the UK, so please keep water in your bathtub in case you need to drink it for a month. I know this sounds bad, but honestly who actually enjoys washing anyway?

Section 5: Keep your spirits up

The tough bit is nearly over. Keep your spirits up by doing stuff the EU wouldn’t let us do: you don’t have bananas, but if you did they’d sure as hell have a bend in them, enjoy that thought.

Take your kippers off their ice pillows. No pillows for kippers! Rip your shirt off and scream “FREEDOM”, like in Braveheart. OK, so that turned out to be a British law, and all you’re really doing is inviting food poisoning and diarrhoea because fish needs to be kept cool, but at least diarrhoea was your choice. Which – to be absolutely clear – it already was.

Section 6: Embrace martial law

‘Everyone loved playing army as a kid.’ Members of the British armed forces marching in Salisbury, June 2019. Photograph: Corporal Ben Beale/British Army/PA

Everybody loved playing army as a kid, and in the end isn’t Brexit really about wanting your childhood back? Voila, we give you martial law. Keep your head down and nobody dies. What fun!

Section 7: Congratulations, we Brexited ourselves

We did it. We’re finally free from the shackles of the EU and its laws and its medicine and the tyranny of its [squints] food. We survived! And, as we all know, that was the prize of Brexit promised in the 2016 referendum campaign: vote leave and we’ll scrape through with our lives. Just.

• James Felton is a TV and radio comedy writer