"My Fellow Europeans..."

Both sides in the EU referendum debate have been issuing dire warnings of the consequences of not voting their way on 23rd June. Later in the week I'll be speculating on what might happen if we vote Leave, but first here's some guesswork on what the outcome could be if we vote to Remain.

Remember, this is a work of fiction, however EU Directive 89/686/EEC is real, and yes, it does cover oven gloves.

I was talking to my neighbour, Brian, over the garden fence the other day. He's approaching fifty, married, with a son called Harry, who is just coming up to his eighteenth birthday. We were reminiscing about the referendum.

"Hard to believe it's been ten years," I said.

"Yes, a lot of water under the bridge since then," he replied. "I saw that David Cameron on TV last night, flogging his new book and boasting about the brilliant deal he got for Britain when we voted to stay in."

"It was close, wasn't it?" I said. "What was it, 52 to 48 percent? And it wasn't such a good deal in the end either, was it?"

"Something like that," replied Brian, "And no, it wasn't such a good deal."

Brian has been seeing his doctor recently, and I know he's worried. Since the NHS outsourced all GP services to Pfizer (mention TTIP to Brian and he goes a dangerous shade of puce), medical fees have soared, and once he lost his job, Brian struggled to pay his appointment fees.

"I need a scan, apparently," Brian told me. "Trouble is, I can't afford one."

And Brian needs the money for a going away party for Harry anyway. Harry is being conscripted into the European Army in a month or two for his two years of Military Service, and Brian wants to give him a good send off. Naturally Brian is worried about where Harry will end up.

"A nice cushy billet on the Swiss border is what we want," Brian told me. "Not those bloody Turkish-Syrian margins." He shivered theatrically, remembering the body bags and the casual cruelty of the Kobane offensive of 2022.

"I'm sure he'll be OK," I said with more certainty than I felt. "They say it'll all be over by Easter."

Brian snorted, "That's what they said five years ago."

I asked Brian what he was up to now he was out of work.

"Got a voluntary job at the election office this week," he said. "You voting in the local elections on Sunday?"

I looked at him askance; "Got to," I said, "Compulsory now isn't it? EU directive whatever the number is."

"Yes, of course, I was forgetting," said Brian. "Been so many changes, it's hard to keep up."

Compulsory voting came in just a couple of years ago, on pain of a 50 euro fine for failing to attend, vote online or by proxy.

"Mind you, I'm not sure there's much point," I said. "The Greens always win round here, what with Labour and Conservative packing up."

"Remind me, why did the Tories and Labour jack it in?" Brian asked.

"Well, when Brussels accelerated economic and social union they disbanded all national governments. Domestically, what we have now is the equivalent of the old metropolitan or county councils. When they took all of the control to Brussels, they left Westminster with the power to set local community charge rates, how much to fine people for dog fouling and not much else. Johnson and Corbyn tried to carry on, but it was hopeless. No power, no point"

"What year was that? My memory's not what it was."

"2019," I replied. "The same year the pound was abolished. I remember all that kerfuffle with the euro coming in." I smiled, fondly recalling the race to get all the cash handling machines in banks and supermarkets changed over in time for e-Day.

"What happened to Boris and Jeremy anyway?" asked Brian.

"Boris has got dual American citizenship,"  I said. "Went over the pond and took to the after dinner speech circuit."

"And Jeremy?"

"Went off grid, as far as I know. Think he moved to Scotland. Of course, they would have given him a visa, no problem. No immigration checks for people like him."

"Bloody Scots," Brian said. The duplicity of Scots politicians, Nicola Sturgeon in particular, always made his blood boil. "The day that woman convinced us all to vote Remain, then drew up the drawbridge, declared independence and crowed about the North Sea oil revenue was a black day in British history. Still, you'd retired by then hadn't you?" he said, bringing the conversation back to e-Day.

"Yes, not for long though," I replied. "Had to go back to work when that pension pot of mine lost three-quarters of its value when the economy crashed and Brussels introduced those controls on pension funds. The extra European Income Tax didn't help either."

"So what you doing for a living now?" Brian asked.

"EU Directive 89/686/EEC enforcement," I said.

"Oh," Brian replied. "Which one's that again?"

"Oven gloves," I said. "Well, it's more than oven gloves. Basically, I inspect commercial and domestic kitchens to make sure that all PPE - that's personal protective equipment - meets EU standards."

"Interesting, is it?" Brian asked.

"No, it's as boring as sin," I said. "Not found a single non-compliant piece of equipment these last five years. Thought I had found a non-compliant rubber glove last week, turned out to be a false alarm. Still, I do get a company car, nice Volkswagen diesel."

"Didn't diesel's get banned?" asked Brian. He looked puzzled, "I'm sure there was something about emissions."

"They were talking about it. Old Jean-Claude Juncker was spitting feathers apparently, then he came back from a weekend in Wolfsburg and suddenly the EU had signed up for a fleet of Volkswagen diesels for the next thirty years."

"Nice car, is it?" Brian asked.

"It's OK. Mind you, I had the devil's own job learning to drive on the right!" I smiled; "I'll never forget that day we switched from driving on the left to the right! What fun that was!"

Just then, Brian's wife Marion came out, "Brian!" she called, "Mr Bissengaliyev from next door is here, he wants to pick your brains about the election."

" Bissengaliyev?" I asked, "Russian?"

"No, I think he's from Kazakhstan," Brian replied. "Mind you, I could be wrong, what with Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Tajikistan all joining the EU this year, it's hard to be sure."

"What's he do for a living?" I asked.

"Works for Sports Direct at that warehouse down the road apparently. He was telling me he wouldn't have come if he'd known how bad it was going to be. Barely makes minimum wage and he's been on a precarious contract since he got here."

"Precarious contract?" I asked, "What's that?"

"Similar to zero-hours," said Brian. "He's on 24/7 call out, but last week he only worked fifteen hours by all accounts. Got called out four times, twice they sent him home."

"I thought zero-hours contracts got banned?" I said.

"They wanted to," said Brian. "Those employers' groups lobbied Brussels and the opposition evaporated. Typical! Anyway, I'd better get in and see Mr Bissengaliyev. I'll catch you later."

"Yes, see you," I said and went indoors. Walking across the living-room, I turned the television on. And was greeted by the grinning visage of George Osborne, President of the United States of Europe.

"My fellow Europeans," he began...