Spunky Brexiters, led by Singapore-based Sir James Dyson, have dug deep to rescue our brave Thomas Cook lads and, in some cases, lasses from strange, foreign lands.
The patriotic millionaires, many of whom are bursting with national pride, have begun the biggest airlift in history to rescue their stranded countrymen without s single shot being fired.
Even Prince Harry and his lovely American wife have offered a private jet to forlorn holidaymaker scum polite enough to wipe their fucking feet first.
The mission is just the latest example of what this fine country – God, I’m welling up – can achieve when unshackled from Brussels, the only other option being to let the honest, British taxpayer foot the bill.
In addition, wealthy men like Jacob Rees Mogg, Aaron Banks and Ringo Starr have agreed to divert some of their hard-won offshore funds into helping the relief effort so that no Briton comes home out-of-pocket.
Aaron Banks said: “I’ve got a diamond mine – it’s the least I can fucking do.”
“Rule Brittania, hip hip hip hip hooray,” cried former victim of market forces, Simon Williams.
“If it wasn’t for the abundant generosity of men like Banks and Dyson I’d be looking at a thousand quid bill to get home courtesy of unscrupulous airlines who are determined to cash in on my misery.
“Somebody pinch me so that I might confirm I am not merely dreaming this wondrous turn of events.
“Oh fuck, I am.”