Death Brek-sit

The territory

I was enjoying a fully-cooked Brek-sit of bacon, Cumberland sausage, black pudding, fruit pudding, scrambled egg and fried bread and looking forward to washing it down with a pint of tea followed by a finisher of thickly-buttered toast and marmalade when Geoffrey flew in through the hole in the wall, feathers shedding everywhere as he caught a wing on the rusty nail on which hung the roughly-painted sign 'PRIVIT'.
'Tuppence wants us to die Tuppy,' he gasped.
'So what's new?'  I finished the last piece of egg and dabbed my mouth with the embroidered napkin left to me by my great aunt Agatha in her will.  Stitched into the napkin and only visible by the light of a waxing gibbous Moon was a secret code detailing the whereabouts of - but that's another story. 'Stop sweating and have some Brek-sit. There's another coil of Cumberland sausage in the larder.  Fire it on the fire.'
'No he really means it this time.  There's no time for Cumberland sausage Tuppy - unless I eat it raw, which I don't quite fancy.  We have to move, and move fast. He says if we hurry up and die he can travel all over the E.U. without beastly tariffs and stuff.  He wants to take his new band on a tour of German colleges and unis because he thinks they'll have an appetite for prog and he can't make any arrangements until he knows for sure what's going to happen.  He says we're ruining his life, it's all our fault because we're old and bigoted and it's high time we weren't around.  Tuppy - he's homicidal.  Even more so than usual.'
'I see. Where is he at the moment?'
'Do you mean, where is he in terms of his views on Brek-sit or where is he in actual, physical form?'
'Stop dithering Geoffrey.  We can't afford to waste any time.'
'He's firing his pistols at targets with our faces on, out on the moors.  So far, he hasn't missed.  Val Nark said it was healthy because he was getting fresh air and exercise as well as flushing all the aggression out of his system in a harmless-style manner but I bumped into Dr Wilson as he was stockpiling diabetes medication in one of the tunnels and he said he was behind Tuppence all the way and it was only a matter of time before we got our just desserts and the country could return to normal. '
'Great.  Start packing Geoffrey.  I'll fetch the coracle and the medical chest.  It's time we were on the move.'
'Where to?'
'We must destroy the Irish back-stop.  Forever! Before it's too late.'
'What is the Irish back-stop?'
'I don't know.  But it's our only hope.'
'It is?'
'Stop asking me things.  And don't forget the mustard plasters, the night vision goggles, the frogmen's suits, the diving bell and the full-face balaclava helmets.'

more later

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