Big Time Polite Boy, a parody of Big Time Bad Boy

"This new song o' ours is simply brill." Kendall said after the end of a rehearsing session.

Gustavo looked at the boys for a moment, rolling his eyes at such obviousness. "Oi, 'course it's brill – I wrote it. But this band be missin' somethin', somethin' important."

"Quite so – I assume you mean our lack of scarves?" James said, holding up a brown scarf striped with greens, purples, and reds.

"Or is it...how you people say...scones?" Carlos spoke with a Spanish accent.

Hortense had a distinct French accent. "Izzit colourful pants? Please don't zey colourful pants."

"Nae!" Gustavo shouted, "I am referring to the polite boy! The young lad who knows his dif'rent flavors of tea. Who knows which fork ta use on a salad o' on a steak. I be referring to the young lad who can waltz an' knows the proper etiquette when meetin' the queen." He walked up to Kendall, who regarded him suspiciously. "...An' I think it should be Kendall."

"Wot?" Kendall asked, surprised. "Why me? Why do we even need a polite boy?"

Gustavo looked at Miss Kelly who picked up her phone and pressed the voicemail button. Griffin's distinct Brooklyn accent voice shot out of the receiver. "Ay Gustav – we need a 'polite boy' in yo' vocal group or youse is fired."

"Griffin didn't even say goodbye when he hung up?" James noted, "That was simply rude of him."

"Americans always be drivin' me bonkers. But he's right – come take a look 'ere." Gustavo said, taking the vocal group down the hallway and motioning to the posters mounted on the wall.

"Look a' BoyQuake. Three gentlemen smilin' next ta each other. But see the fourth laddie standin' off ta the side 'ere and holdin' a cup o' tea? That's the polite boy."

He then walked to the poster across the hall featuring the vocal group Boy Blast. "Lookie 'ere at the fourth boy once more. Smilin', holding a cup o' tea, and dressed impeccably."

"My scarves alone are much classier than what he's wearing." James muttered, but went unheard as Miss Kelly took one of the posters off the wall, revealing a overly polite-looking vocal group named The Brit Blokes.

"There can only one polite boy in each vocal group, however. Too many and you can't sell a single record."

"But, Miss Kelly, we are all nice guys here." Kendall said.

Carlos leaned on the wall, taking out a single red rose from seemingly nowhere. "Si – we are all nice men. Especially to the ladies." He then smiled and presented the rose to Kelly, who looked at him like he was deranged.

"And we all dress fashionably well!" James said, "Well, except for Hortense at least, but we cannot all be perfection."

"Hey! Berets are cool!"

"True, but that ascot and 'Where's Wally?' striped shirt is not."

"Lads." Gustavo said, commanding their attention once more. "None o' you four is polite enuf ta be th' polite boy of th' group – tis simple as that. So, we have added a fifth member onto your entourage."

"A fifth member?" Kendall gasped, "What are we, those blasted One Direction folks from the States, now?"

"One Direction may have captured the hearts of the North American chicas, but they have yet to conquer all of the sexy Brazilians from across the borders..." Carlos said, looking wistfully into the distance while plucking petals off the rose one by one. "If we need a gente maja on our team to help us get famoso, then so be it. The quicker we become famous, the quicker I can find my very own mamacita."

"See? Carlos is being quite positive." Miss Kelly said. "And we've already picked your fifth member."

"We don't have any choice in this?" Kendall asked, chagrined.

James agreed. "I don't find that to be very polite at all."

"I'm yer manager – I'm not 'ere ta be polite." Gustavo said. He then looked down the hallway. "Ah, here comes yer new group member."

The four boys turned their heads, taking a gander at the sight before them. Walking down the hall was a boy dressed in an iron-pressed schoolboy outfit. His tan slacks complimented the dark suit he was wearing. He had Harry Potter-esque glasses and combed-down brown hair. He smiled at the small crowd before him as he pushed a cart of tea down the hallway.

"Lads, meet Nigel Huntington, yer new bandmate."

Nigel flashed a sincere smile at the four dumbstruck lads. "Good day to you – what are your names if I may ask?"

Carlos threw his rose to the ground and took a few steps towards the new arriver. "My name is Carlos Antonio Roberto Pedro Julio Ricardo Guadalupe Garcia. I am one spicy Madrileño, and you may call me Carlos."

James took the simple route. "I'm James Tennant Diamond."

"Hortense Jacques Mitchell."

"Sir Kendall Donovan Knight. My friends call me Kendall."

Nigel spoke. "Well, Kendall - "

"Nay – I say only friends can call me Kendall." He said sourly.

Nigel's bright smile never waned. "Alri' then, Sir Kendall and ye other blokes – whuddya like a spot o' tea?"

Without waiting for an answer, the new boy poured six cups of tea. He handed the first one to Miss Kelly, then gave everyone else their share. He even brought crumpets to nosh on.

Big Time Rush didn't like Nigel one bit.

"Katherine, you simply must find some girls your age to play with."

"Mother, I prefer to be called 'Katie'. Katherine makes me sound humble and sophisticated – both of which I am not."

Lady Knight shook her head an sighed. "My dear – do you not remember that we are descended from the very first knights in existence? You yourself are named after Queen Catherine!"

"Yes, however Catherine of Argon was a stubborn fool who didn't really do much. I was only named 'Katherine' to fit with the odd 'K' naming scheme we have, and you know it."

"Even so, you are descended from greatness, and all great ladies have friends. Here," Lady Knight started to wave someone over. "I have someone I would like you to meet."

A girl who looked to be about Katie's age skipped to Lady Knight's side and smiled at Katie. "Hi, I'm Noelle Annabelle! I'd love to play with you!"

"How about this afternoon after tea time?" Lady Knight asked.

"Sounds ace. Seeya later!"

Katie watched Noelle leave, then faced her mother. "I don't like her."

"Don't be rude. You cannot judge a book by its cover, child."

"Did you see her striped shirt and beret? I believe she's French!"

"Hortense is French, but he is still a fine young man. You mustn't judge people by where they come from – you can hurt a lot of feelings that way."

Both girls heard a sudden shrill scream from the other side of the pool. A man with oversized jeans, a white shirt with an eagle pictured on it, and a bandana sporting the letters 'USA' in red, white, and blue colors brandished an axe in his hands. "THIS IS FOR AMERICA!" He screamed, throwing the axe down.

"The colonies!" Lady Knight screamed, partially in disgust. She grabbed her daughter and dragged her away from the scene in great haste.

Mr. Bitters walked over, looking at the man holding the axe in confusion. "Couldn't jou have cut ze grass with le lawnmower instead, Bandana Bob?"

"You said you wanted me to cut the grass, just not how." Bandana Bob replied. He then swung his axe once more, " 'MURICA!" He yelled, bringing it to the overgrown ground and chopping the grass with great precision. "USA! USA!"

"My darling, what are you doing here in the lobby all by yourself?"

"First of all, Carlos...don't call me that." Katie said. She looked at her brother when answering. "Mother is trying to make me be acquaintances with some random girl named Noelle."

"What seems to be the problem, then?"

"The problem is...I believe Noelle is French."

Everyone except for Hortense gasped in horror. The boy rolled his eyes, "I'm ztanding right here, jou know."

"I'm also standing right here!" Another voice exclaimed. Camille had appeared out of nowhere, dressed in an American colonial outfit. "Do not worry a thing, I didn't get the part." She said when everyone stared at her outfit in horror. "Apparently, only men served in the colonial war – who would know such a thing?"

"I do believe that we all knew that." James dryly said, "Even Hortense."

"Hey, I am zmarter than all of jou!"

"Yes, but you also eat snails..." Carlos said. He donned the black sombrero he was famous for as he dramatically sighed and whispered, "What a strange, non-sexy culture..."

"Le HEY! We have plenty of ze zexy!"

"I do believe so." Camille agreed, "However, you shall never catch me eating Escargot."

"I believe that Escargot is a lovely cultural food." A new voice added. The boys all groaned when they recognized who it was.

"Pray tell, what business do you have here, Nigel?" Kendall deadpanned.

Nigel merely grinned. "I'm here to deliver a message from Griffin." He pulled out his mobile and pressed 'play'. Out shot Griffin's garishly accented voice.

"Yo, Big Time Flush or Rush or whatevah ya call yoselves. I realized that five members is too much, so we gonna have a polite boy off, ya see? Meet me at Rocque Records at four."

"Four!?" James gasped, "But tea time is at four!"

"Rude, simply rude." Camille agreed. She then looked at Nigel. "Hey - knock me down with a feather – it's Wayne Wayne!"

"Wayne Wayne?" The boys repeated at once.

"Oh, yes, Wayne Wayne and I used to be on a delightful North American TV programme back when we were in Year 7 all the way to Year 9...or 'Middle School' as those Americans call it."

"American?" Katie inquired, "So this guy's a Yank, then?"

Nigel spoke again, this time dropping his British accent and adopting an American one. "Okay, ya caught me – I'm a 'yank', or whatever you British people call us."

"We've been diddled!" Kendall gasped.

"What are you, some sort of nark?" James accused, "An unfashionable Yankee nark?

"I don't know what any of that means!" Nigel exclaimed, "You English people have such weird words and accents."

"I zey jou are ze one wit' the weird azzent!" Hortense responded.

Nigel rolled his eyes at him. "Says the guy wearing a 'Where's Waldo?' shirt. Look, one of you guys are going to be kicked off of the band. And I say it's French-boy."

"Why does everyone hate ze French!?"

"I don't!" Camille said, somewhat duckily. "But Wayne Wayne, what makes you so sure that you won't be kicked off of the band instead?"

"Because," Nigel said taking out some parchments of paper. "I got myself a contract saying that I have to be in a band. And I choose this one."

Katie pushed through the teenagers and stood in front of Nigel. "A treaty you say?"

Nigel looked at the little girl in slight confusion. "Uh, yeah – if that's what you British people call it, I guess."

Katie smiled. "Simply brill – let me see that." Without waiting even a nary of a second, Katie snatched Nigel's hefty contract out of his hands and ripped it in half. "Oh, apologies. I do not know my own strength, it seems."

Nigel gasped, grabbing his ripped-up contract in terror while everyone else had a jolly good laugh at what just occurred.

"Jou should've known to not trust a British treaty." Hortense said, shaking his head and smiling. "Zey always do ze double-cross!"

"Well...well – there's still the polite-off!" Nigel said, "And once I win, I'll tell Griffin what you guys did to my contract, and you'll all be kicked off of the band! I'll be a solo artist! Cheerio, losers." Nigel then walked off with his torn contract in hand.

"Oh bollucks, the polite-off!" James said, "He is very good at pretending to be polite. How shall we ever think of defeating him? My classy scarves and trent coats can only get us so far."

"Don't worry, mates. I've a good plan." Kendall said, somewhat ominously.

"Gustav! Where the heck are Brit Time Rush?"

"Big Time Rush, Griffin!" Gusatvo corrected "They'll be 'ere pretty soon, jus' wait!"

"It's not even four o'clock yet." Miss Kelly said, checking her watch. "It's only half-three."

"Good boys always arrive early, Gustav, and youse know that." Griffin said. "And dat goody-two-shoes Nigel's been here since three!"

Nigel appeared next to Griffin, smiling. "While waiting for the lovely lads of BTR to show, I've taken the liberty to create more tea. It is almost tea time, after all." His faux British accent was in full play while speaking, and he revealed yet another cart of hot, piping tea.

Miss Kelly and Gustavo nearly groaned at the sight.

"He's made way too many cups of tea for us today. Another one and I might just burst." Miss Kelly said.

Gustavo agreed. "Innit so – perhaps there's somethin' as 'too polite'."

It took another twenty minutes before Big Time Rush arrived, but when they did, no one could believe what they saw.

Instead of being dressed in classy slacks like Nigel, they bore ripped jeans. Nigel's suit was expensive – Big Time Rush wore leather jackets and old shirts. Their hair was a mess – Hortense's hair defied gravity as it was gelled to the point of spikiness.

"Wazz the meaning of this?" Griffin said, somewhat amused. "Youse look like how wannabe gangstas dress back in America!"

Kendall smirked, and began to speak in a pitch-perfect American accent. "Well, we're trying to beat One Direction, right? And they're American."

"Si – uh – I mean yes." Carlos said, dropping his Spanish accent for an American one as well. "And to be them, we must become them! And they love sports! Instead of playing Cricket all day, we could play the States' totally fake version of football!"

"Or baseball." James suggested.

"Or hockey!" Hortense suggested.

James gave him a withering glare. "Hockey's Canadian. We can't play that."

"Look, what we're saying is that those Americans aren't looking for some guy obsessed with tea and politeness." Kendall said, bringing the topic back to where it was before. "If we want to be popular in America, we can't someone who likes drinking tea all day in our band."

Griffin seemed to be considering his words. "That'ssa good speech ya got there – but what about ya British fanbase? If youse change yo image like dat, dey not gonna be so happy, ya dig?"

Kendall went back to his original accent. "I say we don't have to change the way we speak. After all, it is proven that Americans love British accents."

"No se olvide Spanish accents, amigo." Carlos said, speaking normally once more. "All the ladies love me."

"They love me more!" James said, "Tall, handsome, British...what more could the ladies want?"

"A Spaniard." Carlos stated simply.

"O' a French boy! Right?" Hortense said, "We're diverse enough already – we don't need ze polite boy!"

"Youse may have a point..." Griffin said. Nigel didn't like where this was going.

He immediately dropped his fake British accent, and looked at Griffin in slight despair. "No, no – I can still be in their band! See? I'm not actually British! I'm American! I can totally appeal to the American audience with my...uh...American-ness..."

Griffin cut his eyes to the boy. "Youse an American?" He asked, "Youse not from England like you said yo weres?"

Kendall smirked, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Ohh, you should think twice before diddling Griffin."

"What – what does that mean?" Nigel exclaimed, suddenly afraid of the dark look Griffin was giving him.

"I ain't no palooka, ya hear? Ya tryna pull a fast one on me, huh?"

"Umm, no..." Nigel said sheepishly.

"Ah, oui – did jou realise zat his name izn't 'Nigel' but iz 'Wayne Wayne' instead?" Hortense offered, "He's a liar and a diddler."

"What does that mean!?" Nigel repeated.

"It means ya is jus' a big, dirty, cheat!" Griffin said, then raised his voice as he addressed the security. "Guards! Take dis kid outta Rocque Records – he ain't allowed here no more!"

Two men dressed in yellow coats and tall, fuzzy hats appeared, grabbing Nigel by the arms. "W-wait! But my contract says I have to be in a band, and - "

"Oi, so sorry Griffin, but my dearest sister 'accidentally' ripped his contract up." Kendall said, not even trying to cover up the fact that he was lying.

Griffin shrugged, not caring as the guards dragged Nigel away, never to be seen in Rocque Records again.

"I guess youse correct – youse don't need no fifth group member after all."

"Righto! And I ne'er doubted you lads, not one bit." Gustavo exclaimed bit too brightly – his lying skills were worse than Kendall's.

"Of course..." Kendall said, pretending to buy what Gustavo had said. "But we shall not be dressing so uncivilly all the time." He tugged on his rugged leather jacket for emphasis. "Although we are up to trying new things, we won't change who we are to do so. No matter what, we shall always be the same four Cricket-playing English blokes we've always been."

Griffin conceded. "Fine, we'll have it your way. Maybe the 'British boy band' thing ain't so dead after all."

"Uh, we prefer the term 'vocal group'." James said, "We find it more classy and less barbarish."

"Fine – vocal group, then. Whatevs! Griff Griff, out!" Griffin then turned heel and walked away without another word.

"Huh." Miss Kelly said, "That's the closest thing he's ever gotten to a 'goodbye' before. I do believe that he's taking a liking to us."

The doorbell rang.

"Oh! That must be Noelle!" Lady Knight buzzed happily.

Katie grimaced. "Mum, no! I told you that I want no part of her!"

"But my dear, you must make more friends." Lady Knight said, opening the door. "Besides, you might – AHHH!"

Bandana Bob looked at her oddly. "Uh, I'm here to fix the - "

"The colonies!" Lady Knight yelled, grabbing a frying pan out of nowhere and bonking Bandana Bob on the head, causing him to faint.

"Mother! What have you done!?" Katie exclaimed, "He's just the maintenance man!"

"Ehh...wot?" Lady Knight replied, confused at such a notion.

"Hiya, mum!" Kendall said, appearing by the doorframe with his three friends trailing behind. "What's the maintenance man doing on the floor?"

"...Wot?" Lady Knight repeated, still confused.

James walked in with Hortense. "Turn on the telly!" James said. Hortense jumped over to the couch, grabbing the remote. When the TV didn't turn on, he went to the cable box and plugged in a loose switch.

Carlos walked in last, donning his faithful sombrero. "Ahh, Lady Knight – you are as beautiful as ever." He took out another red rose, giving it to the dumbstruck woman.

"Uhh...thanks..." She said, slowly walking over to the television where everyone else sat.

It was on a news channel. Katie looked at the screen in disbelief. "Mum – isn't that your car?"

Everyone watched as little Noelle was caught on camera driving Lady Knight's car down a motorway. The description the News gave was that Noelle was really named Molly Dooley – a forty year old American who poses as a young French girl and steals for a living.

"Daft Americans – always trying to steal what's rightfully ours." Kendall said.

Everyone agreed.

Xx

I'm an American.

I don't know what this story is about, either.

I've never been to Europe.

I'm truly sorry for any brain cells lost.

If you like it/don't like it/want to correct something I got wrong, then please leave a review or something

Yeah

'MURICA!