A vase flew by at speeds that could only mean one thing: Ireland just found out England had changed all her green mailboxes to red. England ducked as the chair was thrown at him. The feisty red-head stood in front of him, hands pressed firmly on her wide hips. Even if England had a height advantage of at least a foot, she looked as if she could crush him beneath her petite foot.
"What the bloody 'ell bastard? First you starve out half my people, then you raise taxes. Now you paint over my green postboxes?" She fumed. As if it wasn't enough that he was in the middle of a world war, she had to start getting on his ass about minor problems.
"Look, you're part of the UK. We're red no-" Ireland shoved her boot on his chest, cutting him off
"I'm not WILLINGLY part of the UK you cunt headed little fuck. I'm GREEN not RED. You better watch yourself next time you try something." Ireland walked away. Heh, like she could do something with all her young men serving in the war.