For Theresa May, a damn close-run thing

Like the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo, Theresa May was saved by the Prussians. As Napoleon — as Emmanuel Macron would love to be — launched his Old Guard at the thin red British lines, Marshal Blücher — Angela Merkel, who is actually a Prussian — arrived with the cavalry in the nick of time.

Brussels summits are normally such forgettable affairs that the most colourful story is often the menu at dinner. (This time it was duckling à l’orange; Mrs May wasn’t even offered a bread roll.) This one, more memorable than most of these dreary occasions, marks the moment when national interests reasserted themselves in the European Union. Faced with a dish of “disorderly” Brexit which few on either side found palatable, the French President told journalists — in fluent English, to avoid any misunderstanding — that if Parliament rejected the deal for a third time, “we will be going to a no-deal.” The British had simply run out of time: “We cannot have what I would call an excessive extension.”

Even with a deal, in other words, Macron was minded to reject Mrs May’s request for a three month stay of execution until June 30. Instead, she could have a month at most, until May 7. He seemed determined to add insult to injury: one way or another, the “British problem” must be solved before France could celebrate the 74th anniversary of VE Day on May 8th. (As everyone in Paris knows, the French liberated themselves.) If Mrs May fell as a result of her humiliation, it would serve her right.

The French view did not prevail. One after another, the northern countries most affected by Brexit lined up to propose a more conciliatory approach: the Danes, the Dutch, the Irish and above all the Germans. Under no circumstances was Mrs Merkel going to allow an accidental no-deal Brexit. The German car industry is threatened by a trade war with the Trump administration. To risk damage to its second most lucrative market, the UK, would be for the German Chancellor to commit political as well as economic suicide.

So the EU stepped back from the brink. After a two-hour grilling it was painfully obvious that if Parliament were to reject the deal, she had no Plan B. Nevertheless they offered Mrs May a lifeline. If by some miracle she were to get her deal through Parliament next week, she could have until May 22. If not, Brexit would still be delayed by a fortnight until April 12. Why? Officially, to allow her to consult and present a Plan B. In reality, the Micawberish hope was that something would turn up to put off the dreaded no-deal.

Does this mean that the Prime Minister is out of the woods? Of course not. This was no triumph of diplomacy: the analogy with Waterloo breaks down here. Mrs May returned to find her party in uproar about Wednesday night’s moment of madness, the televised address she gave from Downing Street. All hope of a majority in the Commons for her deal now seems to have evaporated.

So there are three weeks left in which Mrs May has to come up with something new. The cartoonists, at least are happy: they are having a field day with guillotines, racks and other instruments of torture and execution. The reality is more mundane and also more poignant: a Prime Minister who seems increasingly out of ideas, out of time and out of place.