I could go on and on about how this grand nation of ours is inexorably slipping straight down the toilet (indeed I have in the past. Go take a peek and see if you can work out when I was especially frustrated. And then bear in mind the fact that I’m basically left wing and contemplate how much worse my opinions would be if I wasn’t). But we simply don’t have the time for such a magnificent diatribe (cower before my mighty vocabulary).
In the face of such soul sucking misery within our borders, some have felt the need to take matters into their own hands. For example, one could go many different ways when it comes to distributing their windfall of lottery winnings. Some clutch their pennies close to their chest and treat them more dearly than their own young. Others experience a sudden case of open handedness where they cannot help but share the love.
The person I have in mind went for something along the lines of the latter option. With a smattering of door number one. They set up their own country. And named themselves king. But in a happy shiny way. Matters will be immeasurably better in this new land of milk and honey (the cows and the bees might be slightly less impressed with the new set up but the real question is what are they going to do about it?).
If you thought that people were overly keen to get into the UK then you know nothing (Jon Snow). Immigrants are foaming at the mouth with impatience because they cannot wait to cross the borders into this veritable paradise. And nothing could possibly be more pleasing to the king. He’s more than in the mood for a good flocking and he doesn’t care whatsoever who knows it.