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GRAND OLD BRITISH CONFLICTS

So, if you've been paying attention to international posturing lately you'll have noticed that there's been some great new beef between The British government and Argentina over, shockingly, the Falkland Islands. Ol Blighty want to make the most of all the sweet, oily, black gold nestled around an island and the Argentine rulers are not happy. While it's unsurprising that most people in Britain can't remember where the Falklands are, it's slightly more startling that no Argentinians actually give a shit about that war either. Drunk cabbies in Buenos Aires often look at my white face and school tie and say things like: "It was politics. We are people. We sit here and we get on and are happy. Those bastard politicians tried to ruin that." Then I start crying and say things like: "Yeah, yeah, you're so right man, you're so right. It's like, you're my brother, you know that?" So, with this old conflict rearing its head it seems only inevitable that our once proud nation is going to be haunted by some of yesterday's wars.

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Return to the Raj

The History

There was a time when a gentleman could sail from King's College Cambridge to Bombay (not bloody "Mumbai") and sip a sun-warmed gin and tonic delivered to him by a downtrodden Indian slave who was secretly fucking his wife in strange, spicy ways. The Indian sub-continent was, for nearly a hundred years, ours to run and ruin as we saw fit. Yes, we were firm, but by George we were fair. After all, massacres build character and humiliation stops that character from getting carried away.

Conflict Re-ignition

Inspired by bleary-eyed reunion at the old alma mata, new prime minister Dave Cameron realizes that a Great Britain needs a Great Fuck-Off Empire. Civil servants inform him that India is a country "on the up," that there are a billion little industrious people living there now and that its nuclear capability is "quite advanced." Cameron presses on.

The Outcome

A thousand trusty redcoats land at the port of Mumbai, distributing pamphlets on Windsor knots and decorum before their wooden frigates are destroyed by lazer-guided Indian robo jets. As Cameron furrows his brow at this act of darkie delinquency, Delhi nukes Britain and the scepter'd isle sinks into the Atlantic.

The Hundred Years' War

The History

"Love thy neighbor," the Bible says. "Hate, fight, and resent thy neighbor," says international history. Those Frogs across the pond have always filled us with a mixture of rage, lust, and jealousy. The Hundred Years' War was a very long culmination of that. It was basically a series of fights between the English (longbows, once more unto the breach, Black Prince) and the French (crossbows, losing Calais but nothing else, Joan of Arc). And yes, it lasted for more than a hundred years.

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Conflict Re-ignition

The remembrance of things past is what kills the entente cordiale. I mean, god damn it, we bailed their ass out TWICE and how do the French reward us? By not letting us into the EU for 22 years… So when Brown finds himself at a swansong reception at Downing Street and Sarkozy makes a crack about how his family always hoped the Germans would hold onto France because even their food was better than the English's, our leader loses it and things turn swiftly warlike.

The Outcome

Brown immediately seeks to unleash warhead hell but the Americans, who control Britain's nuclear stockpiles, refuse him access. Obama tells him to calm down and stop acting like a child. Brown tells his staff that if they don't work out the American codes he will "fucking end them." Unfortunately the endless typing and re-typing of phrases like "Bush124," "GWB4eva," and "Obamatron" yields nothing. In a desperate about-turn, Brown tells Sarkozy that he thinks the war should be fought under Hundred Years' War rules. Both sides can only fight using 14th-century weapons. Sarkozy, an excellent rider, loves the idea, but insists that he and Brown both lead their armies. The infirm Brown dies of exposure as he leaves the office to choose his armor.

A return to Rhodesia

The History

Towards the end of the 19th century, big-time colonial chap (and founder of diamond mining mega-firm, De Beers) Cecil Rhodes came to Zimbabwe, obtained mining concessions from various local leaders, including King Lobengula, and before anyone knew what was happening he'd named the land after himself. Theses days Cecil Rhodes is Robert Mugabe and Rhodesia is called Zimbabwe.

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Re-ignition

After getting humiliatingly lost in Zimbabwe, David Miliband grabs a local man by the throat and demands that he carry him on his back to the house of Cecil Rhodes, "this ridiculous nation's founder and ruler." After being told that things have changed, the foreign secretary is chased out of Africa by Mugabe. Miliband returns to the UK determined to see Zimbabwe renamed Rhodesia or, failing that, Millibandland. Brother Ed declares himself "up for the idea" in parliament.

The Outcome

Using their vast store of conflict diamonds, De Beers buys a mercenary army that defeats both the British and the Zimbabweans. Miliband is locked in a diamond cage, Zimbabwe becomes DeBeersland and every single town in the country is named after an expensive ring.

OSCAR RICKETT