After the recent European summit, the cultural commentator explores the referendum and ponders the culinary implications of such a seismic decision

In 2015, Britain caught referendum fever. It got it from Scotland, who had it in 2014, but recovered after a quick lie down... Britain, however, is still coughing up red-white-and-blue pus to this day.

'Where is the money in a coin?': five times Philomena Cunk blew our minds Read more

Britain had been hanging out somewhere called the European Onion since the 1975s, and it was a pretty good party, with a wine lake and a butter mountain. But like any party with people you don’t like, eventually we couldn’t remember why we’d come, so we ordered a cab. But because we’d had enough of experts, we booked one of those new ones off an app. And, sure enough, the zero-hours driver hadn’t heard of our destination, and the satnav was on the blink, but at least we were going somewhere.

David Cameron, who you might remember was that olden-days prime minister who looked like a born-to-rule sausage, thought a referendum on leaving would make Britain a stronger and stabler place. A bit like when I decided to microwave a spoon to use on ice-cream.

Quick guide Philomena Cunk: from Trump's hair to Shakespeare Show Hide Trump’s hair “There’s this amazing stuff on his head. It’s not hair; it’s like a sort of furry gas. It’s like he was born with a squirrel’s tail and he’s brushed it over his head to pass among humans.” The Suffragettes “The Suffragettes did things that were considered shocking at the time, like throwing themselves in front of the king’s racehorse. They did this partly to highlight how unfair it was that women didn’t have the vote but horses did, and also because being women they really liked ponies. They also went on hunger strike, sparking the cool fad for women’s diets that continues to this day.” Wolf Hall “I found it boring, because I wasn’t sure whether it was boring because it was boring, or boring because it was good. Like how the theatre is good, but totally boring.” Climate change “Our planet is changing. And not in a good way like into a butterfly or giant wooden shoe.” Shakespeare “If you had to pick what Shakespeare did best most people would say tragedy, which is one of the few things he has in common with Steps.”

There was also this sort of furious Muppet ashtray called Nigel Farage. He was an ordinary man of the people, not an MP, thanks to a sinister conspiracy masterminded by a Westminster elite of other ordinary people who’d not voted for him in 1994, 1997, 2001 and 2005. And 2006, and 2010. And 2015.

Farage had spent so much time campaigning to leave the EU that he hadn’t had a chance to work out how we might do it, which is understandable because it was all he’d thought about for 22 years.

So on 24th June 2016, we had Brexit for breakfast. And it’s still the only thing on the menu. It’s not a nice breakfast, like the Honey Monster one. It’s gruel, like in Oliver!, delivered by cartoon Victorians like Boris Johnson and Jacob Rees-Mogg. It’s like waking up day after day in a hipster hotel based on a workhouse.

Play Video 3:15 Will the real Jacob Rees-Mogg please stand up? - video profile

Have we done the right thing? And what does a future outside the European Onion look like? What if spaghetti’s illegal? Backstreet spaghetti merchants can easily fob us off with noodles or Kerplunk sticks. And Kerplunki Bolognese isn’t a thing because they take days to boil soft. What if all the Volkswagens have to be turned into buses and all the coffees have to have English names, like “tea” and “Bovril”? You’d think it would be easy to negotiate on your own against 27 other national bodies, but it actually isn’t. For one thing, there’s 26 more of them and you’ve just told them you hate them. Luckily for Britain, David Davis is always ready with a chuckle and no answers, to chortle us through the hard times over the cliff edge into the sunny uplands of plastic spaghetti, VW buses and lukewarm Bovrilattes. So that’s all right then.

As told to Jason Hazeley and Joel Morris

Cunk on Britain starts on 3 April, 10pm, BBC Two

