Turn bored with Brexit to board with Brexit with these fabulously fun games you’ll be playing with all the family this Christmas:
Take the battered leopardskin kitten-heeled shoe on a whistlestop tour of European capitals. First stop Berlin, where you’ll wish you’d failed to get out of your limo. Now pop back and forth to Brussels several times to spend valuable time discussing the meaning of the word ‘nebulous’ with your sheepish neighbour Jean-Claude Juncker. But watch out for that Go Straight To Dublin card – you’ll miss ten turns discussing the backstop while Jeremy Corbyn forges a brilliant deal. Only kidding, everything will still be waiting for you to sort out when you finally get out of the quagmire, at 11.59 on March 28th 2019.
Or choose the comedy mop of blond hair as your icon and get stuck on a zipwire for the duration, being pelted with rotten tomatoes by discarded mistresses and unacknowledged love children.
Fancy a turn as the slug? He promises allegiance to everyone, but then slithers round the board whispering poisonous gossip into every ear.
Or maybe you’d prefer the comedy monocled snake? He comes with an additional uniformed Norland nanny counter who shepherds him around and shields him from distressing sights, like the homeless, his own six children and anyone with an income under £2m a year.
Maybe you’ll pick the shellsuit icon? You’ll spend the entire negotiation period locked in your study pretending you don’t want Brexit to usher in the final convolution of Capitalism.
And don’t even bother looking for the shiny pink pig counter. That one mysteriously disappeared the moment the game started.
Snakes and Leaders
This jolly little contest starts in the murkiest bars in the House of Commons and has its final denouement in Committee Room 14. There are 317 squares, and an unspecified number of snakes. Many of them have monocles, some of them are quite slug-like, most of them are white, middle-class, podgy and entitled, but there is the odd female of the species lurking in the undergrowth. Your job as a putative leader is to climb as far up the greasy pole as you can, while guarding your ankles from the bites of the nest of vipers below you. And remember, if you manage to make it through the game, you’ll be glad to hear that the board has to be put away in the cupboard for a whole year. Mind you, that doesn’t mean you won’t be facing all sorts of other games from your official Parliamentary foes on the other side of the House. Good luck.
Without a Cluedo
This is the game currently being played by the British people. Fifty-two per cent voted to take part, forty-eight per cent weren’t at all keen and would much rather watch The Sound of Music for the fiftieth time, but now we’re all playing it anyway.
Shake the dice, roll a six and pay €7 to enter the cross-channel ferry bound for Europe, but be prepared to queue for many hours in
the lorry park, sorry, Kent, before embarking.
Once you reach Versailles and the Hall of Mirrors, it’ll be up to you to decide whether it was Britain, with the blunt instrument, that bludgeoned the European ideal to death, or whether Brussels ballsed the whole thing up in the billiard room with its dreams of a super-state.
Or does the answer lie closer to home, in the House of Commons lobby, with successive Tory leaders failing to rid the party of its Eurosceptics by using the lead piping? Not even Professor Plum can answer the question of whether we’d be here now if the bonkers anti-European Tories had had to form their own splinter party years ago. Meanwhile, Mr Scarlet carries on having a nice little snooze in the library under his very out-of-date copy of the Communist Manifesto.
And, once you’ve played all three games at home, watch spellbound as your elected representatives go through the motions for real on the international stage after Christmas. Bet you can’t wait.