In the classic 1992 film “Glengarry Glenross”, from the play by David Mamet, there’s a memorable scene. In it, the desperate, dried up old husk of a real estate salesman, Shel Levine (played by Jack Lemmon) is recounting to the office hot shot Ricky Roma (Al Pacino) the details of the masterful sale he believes he has just made to a couple of sad sack pensioners, the “Nyborgs”.Positively drooling with triumph and relief he draws out the description, savouring the ecstatic moment when, after a prolonged and intensive sales pitch, the exhausted Nyborgs finally surrendered.

“They signed! It was great. It was so ******* great. It was like they wilted all at once. No gesture. Nothing. Like together. They, I swear to God, they both kind of imperceptibly slumped.”

Now, I wouldn’t want to overstate the parallels, but there’s a touch of Shel Levine about Boris Johnson. He is utterly frantic in his efforts to get his deal to pass, and prepared to say almost anything to bring this about, and thus save his job, as well as his party.

And the great British public (at least to those of us committed to respecting the result of the 2016 referendum) are a bit like the poor old Nyborgs, confused and worn out, anxious and vulnerable, our resistance crumbling, secretly praying a way will be found that will end the agony.

We “imperceptibly slumped”.

We reached for the pen and we signed.

Or that, at least, is how the Tories are hoping it will go. Their brilliant “oven ready” deal, which “respects the 2016 referendum” and “allows the UK to leave whole and complete”, has been as glossily packaged as premium beach front property, and just as relentlessly pitched.