Chapter Nine

Our Fate is Yet Unknown

The summer raced on and Pegasus sadly knew that they would have to release the captives
soon, in time for 31st October. Even so, it was still not known what would happen. Would
Parliament be able to block a no deal scenario?

“It is rather stark, isn’t it, the face off we might have in the Commons?” he commented to the
others as they relaxed on the grass bank outside Raven Spires at the front of the university
one evening. “With Jacob as Leader of the Commons and John Bercow as Speaker.”

“Yeah,” said Requane. “It’s dramatic enough, I’ll say.”

“So what are the options then?” asked Alison.

Pegasus sighed, chomping a small bit of grass. “Well, they are talking of many convoluted
ways in which either the Prime Minister could force through a no deal, and ways in which
Parliament could block it.”

Raven Roy walked back and forth, opening up the list, “well the EU say there is no room for
manoeuvre on the deal. The new prime minister says that they have to take away the
backstop, but some of the ERG members say even that would not make them support the
deal. They seem determined to leave without a deal.”

“Reckless,” commented Mouse.

“Indeed. Indeed,” Raven Roy nodded as he continued to pace about. “So, let us say that a
solution to the backstop was found. That could be it: the deal is done. The Prime Minister gets
the extra support in parliament he needs and we have the deal. But what if he doesn’t, or
the deal is still voted down by the ERG? Then there is a vote of no confidence and say that
vote fails, then the Prime Minister takes us out with no deal. But if that vote of no confidence
succeeds then it is still in the hands of the prime minister. He can choose to respect it and
hold an election, I assume Brexit would be delayed in that scenario. Or. He chooses not to
respect it and allows no deal to happen anyway, and has a general election afterwards.”

The party was stunned to silence for several moments following this last option.

Alison and Requane looked at each other in grave dismay; this, after all, on a human, rather
than an animal level, their future that was being grappled away by the hands of their own
government.

“I think I miss the days of new Labour,” said Alison. “Cool Britannia and all that, but where we
were also cool among the world. One of the crew. The optimism was about being us, being
Britain, but go forward alongside others, joining minds, joining politics, for a spectacular
future.” Requane nodded with a quiet look about him and Alison continued, “and I’d love to
see what a real, full Lib Dem government would do, too. Boris Johnson does carry a sense of
optimism about him, sometimes. And I think when he was mayor of London this was for the
right reasons. But that he would shut down parliament, or drop the country into no deal
against the will of parliament. That’s no democracy I know.”

“Huh,” agreed Requane. “And he’s got that guy Dominic Cummings advising him, hasn’t
he? I don’t like Boris anymore.”

“And what else could happen,” Tarturus took over the discussion, “how could the prime
minister be stopped?”