Finally, a fresh beacon of hope. A fresh Labour beacon of hope. Tony Blair, young, promising, and a family man to boot! A fresh new start of England, for Britain, and don't forget Northern Ireland. After a long old stretch of Tory UK, a long old stretch of rebellious, punk England.
This was defiantly the end of all that, England reflected as smiling he shook the hand of the new Prime Minister of The United Kingdom Great Britain and Northern Ireland under Queen Elizabeth The Second.
As England nodded his head, his hand still in a vice like grip, he noted Blair's abnormally large smile and his huge ears that stuck out from the side of his head.
At least they had something in common so far.
Bill Clinton personally had taken a liking to him, even talking to him personally before he had even won the election.
Although everyone had known he would win, the opposition simply had no chance. 1997, hopefully people would look back on this day as a dramatic change for England, for the best. The short nation then looked over Blair's shoulder, at the man behind him. A plump and not very attractive man, John Prescott. England nodded curtly, before turning his attention back to the new Prime Minister, he smiled, once again, the camera's flashing momentarily blinding him. But nothing could dishearten him today. It was too much of a good day.
Emerald met sapphire, as Arthur once again looked into Tony's eyes. Feeling he should say something, but not knowing what, so instead he broke away as the reporters once again started yelling at Blair.
"Mr. Blair, how does it feel now you are actually here?"
"How has Gordon Brown reacted to this?"
They all yelled, and yelled, asking more questions than anyone could possibly answer in a lifetime. England began walking away from the podium outside the famous black door of Downing Street, a spring in his step and a smile on his lips as he heard Tony finally manage to get a word in edgeways.
"Well first of all, hi guys."