WE know what autumn is meant to be about. It’s a meandering season; a slumbering interlude between the long days of summer and the long to-do lists of winter and Christmas.

As the colour fades from our scenery and the country takes on the golden hues of the season, we’re supposed to relax. It’s a time for warm clothes and bubble baths and slightly upping your alcohol units and calorie intake in preparation for the festivities that lie ahead. But like they do with everything else, the Tories are already ruining autumn.

Instead of this indulgent wind-down, we’re forced to be on high-alert, for fear of what constitutional chaos they might try next.

They’ve stolen October from us – sweet, innocent October – and renamed it Brexit Month. The month that they will “get Brexit done”. A month of what-aboutery and dead-eyed party representatives clogging up our television screens with empty promises and misdirection.

The National: Boris Johnson may be bound to extending the Brexit deadline, else he will be breaking the lawBoris Johnson may be bound to extending the Brexit deadline, else he will be breaking the law

The Benn Act forces the government to ask for a three-month extension to the EU exit date if they haven’t passed a deal or got the House of Commons’ approval for No Deal, by of October 19.

READ MORE: Boris Johnson 'WILL seek Brexit delay if no deal agreed by October 19'

That’s the law. You know, the thing Tories are so evangelical about when it comes to hauling low-income families to court over the extra bedroom that’s actually the wee cupboard they keep the hoover in.

But the party of law and order are somewhat reluctant to be model citizens when it comes to laws that affect them and their party donors. And so, this week, they have got themselves into a bit of a muddle on the small matter of whether the rules apply to them.

“OF COURSE, we will follow the law!”, the poor sod sent out to explain his party’s position tells the interviewer, “but we will be leaving on the 31st of October, come what may”.

Come what may. Do or die. No ifs no buts no coconuts. When asked how that squares with the legislation that forces them to seek an extension in certain circumstances, they mumble and waffle, just like Daddy Boris taught them too.

Faced with this whirlwind of wideos, how are we meant to get any peace? Where’s the time to make a big pot of homemade soup when we’ve got a government of rouges and unlawful-proroguers?

I’ve got my eye on that Boris Johnson. When he took to the phallic stage at Conservative party conference and shifted guiltily with every sycophantic laugh that emanated from the audience, I found myself wondering if this crisis was all a big turn-on for him.

There are sexual fetishes most of us will have never heard of before. Ever the dedicated columnist, I took the time to peruse a list of them. I fear my browser history may never recover. You’d be shocked at the things people get up to while the rest of us are watching BBC Parliament.

READ MORE: Joanna Cherry in fresh legal battle against Boris Johnson

Trees, armpits, human beings as furniture – if you fancy it, there’s a name for it. But whatever our prime minister gets his kicks from is – as yet – un-named. Which is a worry in itself.

The National:

Could we not send the Tories away to a swingers retreat or suchlike so they can get whatever is getting them so het up out of their system? It would be so much cheaper than all those fridges of blood and spare organs we’re storing for a No-Deal Brexit.

If not lust, then what? How do we explain Jackson Carlaw’s sudden conversion to the cult of the True Brexiteers, if not infatuation and dare I say it – horniness?

This week he announced his U-turn with an "I luv BoJo" thigh tattoo and zero sense of shame.

Whatever Boris Johnson finds so sexy about the prospect of imminent doom, it appears, among the Conservatives at least, to be catching.

Love is a complicated emotion, full of peaks and troughs and lengthy conversations and plans and arguments over whose turn it is to stack the dishwasher.

Lust, on the other hand, is an altogether more exhilarating and spontaneous state of being. It’s riding a wave of attraction that never quite reaches the shore. It’s an all-consuming, logic-defying, adrenaline-pumping rush.

Or to explain it another way: It’s trying to gift your UK bosses Edinburgh Castle. It’s casting aside your principles and previous statements with the ease of a silk robe from bare shoulders. It’s not caring about looking like a bit of a tit, because you’ve got your eye on a hot blonde called Boris and he just makes you feel so ALIVE.

Cancel your autumn plans, dear readers. Put away the fluffy socks and that book you’ve been meaning to read for ages. The Tories are feeling frisky and they are forcing us all along for the ride.