Day 52 – Warm Beer & Headbutts

And so the wall from East to West will be built, dividing families but creating jobs and much needed prosperity to the poor, but not poor enough to not be able to afford a beer and a packet of crisps, council housed masses.

Or the English could just invade the northern territories, like they did all those years ago raping and pillaging the villages, drinking the whisky and just claim national rights over them. But they won’t because that action definitely won’t endear them to the politically correct sect within the soon to be Untitled Kingdom.

Imagine the scene of the English armies in their rumbling Challenger Two’s and their Typhoons doing seventy up the motorway (ok the Typhoons might be going a bit quicker) to take on the canny Scots at Hadrian’s wall. Every mile or two there will be a barrage of high visibility jacket clad policemen checking their tank’s insurance and license disks and behind them, perhaps a mile or two back, will be the millions of newsmen and photographers looking for the scoop and claiming war correspondent status at the press club.

Body armour clad soldiers bursting into sleeping houses, scaring the shit out of innocent but nevertheless Scottish civilians, in search of Highland Gold, preferably single malt. The revolting Scots deserve it they will reason. They have bought this upon themselves, they have chosen to speak Scotlish over our mother tongue, they have on occasion beaten us on the battlefields of….Wembley and even but more rarely on the hallowed grounds of Twickers. The bastards snigger at our warm flat beer and flat caps while they chug McEwans and headbutt each other. And if that’s not bad enough they have offended our homophobic sensitivities and stolen our tourists through their Edinburgh festival. This Scottish lot need to be a taught a lesson.

And so the advance of the English military machine will advance but only for forty hours a week, anything over that is overtime. They will advance between tea times and the compulsory stop for lunch. The red topped rags will headline ‘GENERAL TAKES IT IN THE REAR’. Sky News will debate this for days, images will loop and expert after expert will hold sway over the television succumbed masses. And still the advance north will continue. At Newcastle, the now primed for battle soldiers of the Queens Own will hand in their ammunition and weapons in case someone gets hurt and they will proceed with caution in single file, watching their step and tied together with a boy scouts toggle in case someone gets lost.

The fiery red haired Scots will of course laugh at the advancing and now weaponless armies to the South. They too will be in single file, for them their roads are too narrow to do it any other way. They will be holding their skirts down with one hand while trying to manage their rifle, their e mail enabled smart phone and pick their nose with the other. Training in this multi tasking would have been forgotten. Interviews given to the marauding and following miles behind in case our war correspondent insurance doesn’t cover it press will only be given in Scotlish, hidden in the words will be secret code that only Scots understand. Those behind enemy lines in England will be encouraged to revolt, “but we are already” they will say!

And so England and Scotland will not go to war. The Scots will keep their highlands, the poms their pebble beaches. They will agree to share the terrible weather. Whisky won’t be made in Milton Keynes, and the Scots won’t be revolting. An unease in the population will continue for generations to come, differences will be obvious, the pitch at Wembley will be destroyed again in the future and they will fight each other in the streets, especially in those streets with pubs in them.

Although it won’t quite be the United it will still be the Kingdom. Unless the Germans stick their nose into it. Then watch how quickly united they become.

More almost but not exactly war stories tomorrow. Until then.