Britain's conversation with James O'Brien.

It's three minutes after ten, and you are listening to James O'Brien on LBC, for which I thank you,

something I possibly don't do often enough. I appreciate there are many other calls upon your time and detention.

At 10 o'clock of a weekday morning, and the fact that so many of you choose, in some cases, almost slavishly to

subscribe to my burblings and more importantly, your sterling contributions is a sort of

never-ending joy to me. So let's begin with some happiness and some gratitude. Thank you.

Now, we will, of course, be discussing Brexit this morning, although at first glance it's hard to determine precisely how.

I have to tell you, I'm minded to apologise, because although I have tried my very best to predict every twist and turn of this whole sorry saga,

and although I have held the likes of Boris Johnson and Jacob

Bruce Mogg in the very lowest of regards for the longest time, I'm afraid even I didn't actually

consider, contemplate, let alone countenance, the depths of moral depravity to which they are now stooping.

It is quite incredible. Of all the things that we've wrestled with and wriggled with on this

programme over the last three years nigh on, the idea that the two men who have done the most to scupper,

both Theresa May's leadership, of course.

Jacob Rees-Mogg felt compelled to try to overthrow her, so poor was her so-called withdrawal agreement,

as long ago only as last December.

Boris Johnson has done little but hurl abuse from the sidelines and resign as foreign secretary effectively

over the constraints of the so-called withdrawal agreement, albeit that it hadn't actually

been written down when he ran for the hills. It was clear when he fled post-checkers that

the, I was clear what the terms would be.

And these two men now, these two moral vacuums, these intellectual ciphers, these stains upon

the history of our parliamentary democracy, are now poised to turn around and vote for something they have described

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