Brexit wasn’t so much a policy as a blank canvas onto which you could project whatever prejudice you chose - David Behrens

The central plank of the Brexiteers’ case was always that if we left Europe we’d be free to strike autonomous trade deals with our neighbours. When she was Business Secretary, Kemi Badenoch defied critics by leaving in place the government mechanism to do just that. She was an advocate for building bridges, not burning them.

Yet now that a deal has finally been struck, the knee-jerk heckle from the isolationist lobby she has joined has been to write it off as a betrayal of the Brexit ideal.

What does that even mean? In 2019 Brexit meant Brexit: everyone in favour said so because it sounded conclusive and triumphant even though it made no sense.

It wasn’t so much a policy as a blank canvas onto which you could project whatever prejudice you chose: no more greasy foreign food; no high-handed diktats from distant bureaucrats; no more immigrants taking our jobs, even if they were jobs we didn’t want to do ourselves.

It’s no coincidence that those are all negatives because that’s how the language of Brexit is couched. As no one was able to articulate what we did want or could realistically expect to get, the idea was predicated on what we didn’t want. The Yorkshire Post will get letters now from Brexiteers who didn’t want to be told that. I rest my case.

A trade deal was one thing we certainly wanted if Britain was to have economic leverage – yet because it would necessarily involve strengthening ties with Europe the idea made isolationists uncomfortable. The cry of ‘betrayal’ would have rung out no matter what the terms.

But what is the bigger betrayal: opening business corridors or condemning our children and grandchildren to live like virtual prisoners on an island cut off from the rest of the world? What leverage would that have left them?

The agreement is a compromise, of course it is. As was widely reported, it does the fishing industry no favours. But fishing accounts for 0.03 per cent of the economy and it smacks of desperation to write off the entire deal on the basis of that concession. That, though, was what the hecklers did on Tuesday and they did it out of fear, not conscience.

It begs the question, who in Westminster now believes what? We were taken into Europe by a Conservative, Edward Heath, and estranged from it by another, David Cameron, who gambled his career on keeping us inside the tent. Labour, under its previous leadership, was ambivalent about it at best. Now the roles are reversed.

On European policy the Tories have always been two parties and their division has now spawned a third. The emergence of Reform UK as a credible alternative – credible in the sense of legitimising prejudice – has set off a rush to the bottom, to pander to our worst instincts rather than lead us to something better.

Nigel Farage, in harnessing a latent, widespread xenophobia and directing it at the EU, succeeded where previous leaders of the extreme right failed. He shapeshifted himself into a prophet of the people, a straight-talking, pint-wielding bloke who said out loud what others only chuntered under their breath.

But he has his limits. There are not enough people in the country – or even in his own party – who don’t think he’s a caricature. And Reform isn’t really a party at all; until three months ago it was a private limited company in which he held most of the shares. As an organisation it’s as transparent as a chip shop window at frying time.

Were it run on more traditional lines he might face a Tory-esque leadership challenge, quite possibly from out of left field. Boris Johnson would be a shoo-in.

Boris is a busted flush in his own party but he is an opportunist who retains enough support among rank-and-file Tories to worry Mrs Badenoch were he to declare himself the disloyal opposition. And while he is shambolic and unreliable he’s less obviously a chump than Farage.

It’s a dystopian nightmare that could come true but for the fact that Reform is still the Nigel Farage Show and his vanity won’t countenance playing second fiddle. So he remains a heckler, like the two Muppets in the gallery but less lifelike. He’s in denial about the economic ruin Brexit has threatened yet somehow he is the barometer for all the opposition as it doubles down on old mistakes. He’s the one with the hammer and we are the tools.