Here are 53 other things pro-Brexit columnists can campaign to bring back

The good old days, when impressionists were considered legitimate comedians and prawn cocktails were an aspirational starter.

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We all know that Brexit means Brexit. What’s come as more of a surprise, though, is all the other things that Brexit means.

Blue passports so big they won’t fit in your pocket. A system of imperial measurements so nonsensical that it didn’t even make sense when there was an actual empire. The imminent war with Spain.

All this raises two questions. One of them is “What the hell is wrong with these people?” but that one’s stumped better minds than mine, so I’m going to focus on the other: “What other delights might the Telegraph dredge up to show that Brexit has made Britain great again?”

Here’s a selection box of past glories that, freed of the shackles of EU membership, Britain will no doubt be bringing back any day now.

  1. Proper currency that comes in pounds, shilling and pence;
  2. Smoking in pubs;
  3. Lyon’s Corner Houses;
  4. Hanging;
  5. Flock wallpaper;
  6. Shag-pile carpets;
  7. Prawn cocktail;
  8. Proper big box TVs where the picture shrinks to a tiny glowing bit in the middle of the screen and which stay warm for several minutes after you turn them off;
  9. Tom Sharpe novels;
  10. Pan’s People;
  11. The constant suspicion of Russian interference in domestic politics;
  12. War with France;
  13. Ceefax;
  14. Proper telephones, which have dials instead of buttons and which are physically tied to the wall;
  15. Orange juice as a starter;
  16. Orange as an appropriate colour for home furnishings;
  17. War with Germany;
  18. Beige;
  19. Smoking on buses;
  20. Horrifically restrictive Sunday trading laws;
  21. Pubs that are mostly closed;
  22. The Cod War;
  23. The dessert trolley;
  24. White dog poo;
  25. John Virgo;
  26. The Duchy of Burgundy, to create a much-needed buffer between Germany and France;
  27. Mullets on footballers;
  28. The British colony in Calais;
  29. Smog;
  30. The three day week;
  31. War in the Netherlands, after the inevitable breakdown in the relationship between Britain and Burgundy;
  32. Betamax;
  33. The Siege of Namur;
  34. Impressionists as a legitimate form of comedy;
  35. Men who refer to themselves by their military rank, even though they’re just in a pub or something;
  36. Scrofula, to give the royal family something to cure, and give the little people hope;
  37. Bucks fizz, the cocktail;
  38. Bucks Fizz, the band;
  39. Considering pasta to be an exotic foreign food;
  40. Plague;
  41. Fish and chips being the only takeaway available on Deliveroo;
  42. Hosepipe bans;
  43. The Marshalsea;
  44. Wimpys which still serve a bender in a bun and don’t find anything funny about that thank you very much;
  45. Calling Snickers “Marathons”;
  46. Pretending we haven’t noticed that there’s something really odd about Jimmy Saville;
  47. Smoking on planes;
  48. The constant lingering terror of nuclear annihilation;
  49. Rickets;
  50. AM radio;
  51. The phrase “My good lady wife”;
  52. The sweet relief of premature death;
  53. Pong.

Jonn Elledge is assistant editor of the New Statesman, in charge of day to day running of the website and its sister site, CityMetric. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.