Bon Voyage
After Brexit the situation for the UK or if you like the British Isles, or just plain and simple England has become impossible. Every day, across the Channel there are malicious comments, questions (answered immediately), not to mention abusive language on the Internet and social media networks. Constant aggravations, explosion of anti-British reflections at so called satire magazines all over the continent. Add to this, zillion messages and calls with a single question: „When will you leave? “. Every little person in the EU zone finds himself or herself eligible to provoke the British government and general public. From Mediterranean bonehead, across Alpine clod, if goats could enter Twitter they probably would make their own opinion about the matter. Finally, any silly clerk from the East, that couldn`t lift any limb during communistic era, now writes message upon message, with all four probably.
The decision was unique, at least for cabinet ministers, let’s go. The preparations were made quickly; the public has been informed in little details as it was in previous occasions. New technologies allowed this plan — island switch. Only thing left to do is to pick a new location for The British Isles. No one remembered to consult Ireland, also part of these isles. Nor the Scotts. They will have to, as they used to, follow England, wherever it goes.
First choice for soon-to-be Brexiters was Madagascar. Lovely, warm but dry climate in the Indian Ocean. Tropical paradise considered by many, especially after centuries of wet, moist and cool weather. Negotiation went smoothly, until local inhabitants were overjoyed for this opportunity to become subjects of the Crown. In the wildest dreams, they couldn`t imagine such an honor. Celebrations take hold of the entire population. The crocodile, a sacred animal for this part of the world, has been sacrificed in thousands. To please local gods, and to make comfortable shoes for local priests and warlords. Latter two often go hand in hand. If that wasn`t sufficient enough, many young folks announce this happy event on the media network. Shock in London was huge. Yes, even wild natives have Facebook, Twitter, etc. This plan had to be cast aside and then totally dropped. Everyone was satisfied, except the Africans. Angry tribes targeted poor lemurs and subsequently fought against each other. The dream of living as a nice middle-class white English gentleman was shattered in a million pieces.
Nevertheless, bureaucrats from Downing Street apply new solutions. They hire some agency, from Yellow Pages, to show transparency, to find ideal and suitable island candidates. This agency proposed several new motions, from some small Greek island to Papua New Guinea. The island in the Aegean archipelago is really small, and Papua has too many man-eating cannibals. Next on the list were Oceanic islands and former colonies Australia and New Zealand. Some young clerk instigates trial balloons with the general public in favor of Terra Australis, as it was mentioned among ministers.
Interest for Australia, as a new homeland, was less than 1% as predicted. Most commentators argued that this country is full of crazy Aussies and kangaroos, some argued for a huge distance (!?), others argued that once a colony for convicts is not suitable for normal living despite it having passed two centuries. New Zealand, with a large quantity of sheep, also didn`t win this “competition”. Even there wasn’t any need to involve the public. So, they were back on square one.
Right, at that another dark moment of English history, Americans send their proposal, much to the delight of members of the cabinet. For the modest price of 3 billion dollars, with their newest radical new technology, based on Tesla works, and after serious calculations about what is best for both countries, the US government proudly presented Newfoundland. Vicinity of the American coast for mutual benefit and “Big Apple”, the city that never sleeps and could be used both for business and pleasure. Even though the latitude is similar, only a few degrees difference. Ferries could take any passenger to the mainland in just an hour. They forgot to mention only if there is no fog, which is certain all year round, and flights on and off the island are safe only during short summer months, from mid July into a few days of August. But Americans offer an old carrier for another modest price. Without any ado, both sides quickly made the deal, fearing that the opposite side would withdraw. Final price, real bargain 7.5 billion dollars, included taxes.
After some test trials, on Tuesday, a historic day, people of the UK woke up on the other side of the Atlantic. It was a win-win situation, as well for Europe as it was for England. If we include Americans, we should say a win-win-win situation. However, some problems emerged very soon. Sea distance from the continent, now of America, has proven much further than alleged half an hour. Also ferryboats were very old, prone to go bad, together with uncommon current flow, at least for newcomers, transport of people and goods didn`t add up to the need. But most people were still very enthusiastic — ” Nature is wonderful, air is fresh, everything is great, we are in paradise”, they carol like many birds around this magnificent island.
First hurricane winds from the Arctic brought troubles, followed by snowstorms beyond any recollection of the eldest from back home. As bad weather endured, for ages as some commented, the Irish and Scottish inhabitants packed their belongings and cleared out. Another win-win-win situation, not without irony, some said. They were the next to leave. By the way, we should say that the Irish people have moved to Boston. Once liked dearly over a huge distance the two groups reunited again after centuries apart, quickly losing previous good faith. Sometimes love apart is quite enough. Soon old ruffles and shuffles among various ethnic groups burst again as old and new Irish inhabitants are put in the same pot. Proud Scots went up the West. Finally, they settled in Montana under a mountain most resembling their beloved Ben Nevis.
For new Newfoundlanders, living here turned from bad to worse. As winter has been progressing, cold winds shocked any person left outside to the core. Now, independent scientists acknowledged to the general public about current flow in the Atlantic, warm Gulf Stream near Northern Europe and cold, local Labrador stream. Response from official scientists wasn`t surprising. They started claiming something about disorder in Siberia, then an independent group responded with exuberant explanations. Very soon nobody has managed to understand either side of this ping-pong scientific clash. But evidently something had to be done. The American president didn`t return any of the calls. Apparently he had some situation down south. Mexicans refuse to finance building costly and grand structure which will cut them off. It sounded very strange for Englanders stranded so close and so far from promised land. However, suddenly a solution emerges out of the blue.
A former secret agent, known only by cipher numbers, after decades in silence, contacted his former employers. He explained how he has lived in the Far East basically as a concubine. Females have always found him very attractive. Left for dead, he has little choice. Moving among the Chinese elite, during one evening party, he overheard one tycoon saying England`s trouble could end in a split second. Together with Russians, they have cheap technology to convert British Isles to their original spot. One lady asked him why they would do it and for what price. In response, he explained, after England left, other Europeans boosted themselves too much and they disturb Chinese interests.
“We need England back for balance,” he finished, hardly believing that he will ever in his life praise hated westerners. Awkward silence descends on the room at that particular moment. Cigarettes are left to burn out, drinks in glasses remain still. Our agent finally, breaks the silence:
“And the price?” he scarcely moves the words from his barely moving lips, looking in all directions simultaneously.
“Queen`s knickers”, sparkling look from eyes of young and wealthy but obese Chinese, strange voice springs out from his head, much to surprise of everybody, and delight after initial shock. As he has turning to see reaction of the agent, few ladies grab his arms, head and bosoms, cheerfully started dancing with him. Glasses have been refilled; one lady jumps on the table, making this into wild party, whilst lonely tall figure slowly walked off into the night.
In a matter of days, he had all the required information. He is sending everything in his report. The main thing is that we will have to give two knickers, one for the Chinese and the other for the Russian president.
After receiving “this great news”, as she put it, Theresa May was jubilant. She promptly called for a cab, but a snowstorm had been raging for weeks, so they had to saddle reindeers and make a provisional carriage. Reindeers were very dubious for any ride in this weather. Whips had to work hard to get them moving.
At the palace, still called Buckingham, although the original was sold, now two stories wooden cabin, prime for this island but not fit for any royalty, Theresa, out of protocol whizzes pass guards and staff straight into the bedchamber of her Majesty. Only prime minister ever bold enough, or crazy to carry out such an attempt.
“Good news”, she bursts straightforwardly, “We can go back. Only thing needed is your knickers, and then We’ll meet again in England”, she continued smiling.
To the dismay of a hero for a second and idiot for entire life, the queen screams in desperation and falls back in the cushions.
“My knickers, after all this — my knickers. I am not giving them up. The winter is coming.”
“Two pairs”, silently says, horrified Theresa.
“No, never. Enough of humiliation for one reign. Get out, you stupid woman.”
Finally getting some sense, one shouldn’t repeat the last remark. She storms out to disbelieve of reindeers. One poor animal pays dearly for this Arctic winter night endeavor. Dragging her body upstairs in her own cottage, an idea sparks her brain — “I will make those knickers”. The grandmother of the prime minister was a needlewoman. “There should be some apparatus in the attic. I will save the day; I will be the hero — once again”.
Holding a candle, as there is no electricity, due to snowstorms, Theresa May gets up further to the top of the house to make destiny for her and her people.
