What ho, oiks!
Ah, this is more like it. This, indeed, is precisely what we men of the shires fervently wished for when we reluctantly passed our pencil over the UKIP candidate and instead wrote our 'x' next to the Tory candidate's name at the last general election:
"We don't want more people from Sheffield flying away on cheap holidays".
No, old bean, we certainly do not! Poor old Pedro has quite enough on his plate without being subjected to a summer influx of Yorkshire yobbos puking their way across the Costa del Sol. But why, I ask, are these same oiks permitted to ramble across an Englishman's land from dawn until dusk? I quite agree that the ghastly stench of the proletarian classes ought not to be inflicted on our poor Continental cousins, but surely the same courtesy should be extended to me and to other landowners? I spend most of my summers chasing shell-suited plebs off my estate with a shotgun and frankly, chaps, it gets rather wearying.
Let us hope the admirable Mr Letwin turns his attention to this much more pressing problem. The leafy shires of our own realm require cleansing before we even think about protecting Pedro from the barbarian hordes.