So Angleterre, as charming as this all is… Please explain why we are having the G8+5 in a bathroom?" France was confused. As was just about everyone else in here. They were also rather squished, which for him, was good. He'd already just about groped everyone in the room. "Can you also explain why there are fourteen people in a group of thirteenc"

The look on England's face was priceless to France. It just made him smirk more and more. He looked thoroughly put out, and was completely and utterly embarrassed. France gave his upper thigh another squeeze just to make him go redder.

"Get off me you fucking pervert!" England practically bellowed, slapping France's hand away as he went, if possible an even brighter shade of scarlet. France just chuckled, and slid his hand back. "And I don't know any more than you do! In fact, Clegg, why are we having the G8+5 meeting in your bathroom! I asked you to book us the meeting room!"

"I did!" Clegg whined, wide eyed and looking very much like an abused and abandoned puppy. "But then Dave came along and said he'd needed to change it and then he told me to come here, and stay in the meeting and I didn't have any say!" England sighed, wriggling slightly as he tried to get more comfortable. No easy feat considering he was sandwiched between France and Nick Clegg. France, England and for some reason, Clegg were all sharing the bath tub, while Russia sat on the toilet lid, muttering something in Russian and making the KOLKOLOLKOLKOLKOLKOL sound. Italy was in the sink, several hand towels over him and fast asleep, America was standing by the door eating a hamburger and yelling something, while everyone else sat on the floor. Germany look constipated and kept yelling at England and Clegg, only to be awarded by the two Brits yelling back at him. Although Clegg had a tendency to yell slowly, and attempt to negotiate.

All in all, it was the single most embarrassing moment of England's life.

"Now everyone, I think we could get rid off all our nu…" Clegg rambled on about something no one cared about, because by now, everyone had forgotten him. Canada then decided to start talking to him, but quickly changed his mind, as Clegg began making strange hand movements and completely blanked him.

"Hey Iggy!" America yelled, spraying bits of hamburger all over everybody.

"Don't call me that git! GET OFF ME FRANCIS! And I swear to God. If you don't stop eating I personally will take that hamburger and stick it up your-!"

"EVERYBODY QUIET!" It seemed as if Germany had finally snapped completely. This caused Italy to wake up with the cry of

"PPPPPAAASSSTTAAAA!" America to shout;

"WOAH! I JUST HAD A SUDDEN CRAVING FOR ITALIAN FOOD!"

"Does anyone want any snacks, aru!"

" Just let me finish this hamburger!"

"Germany! Everything was under control until-GET OFF ME YOU DAMN STUPID FROG!"

"Heehee! It is so funny watching you all kill each other, da."

"Oahh.. But mon petite lapin~! It definitely feels like you enjoy it."

"GET THE HELL OFF ME YOU PERVERTED, WANKER!"

"Arthur… I don't think Cameron would like you to knock France out with his tea cups."

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THAT FECKING FASCIST BASTARD!"

"… I'll go make coffee.."

Canada looked wistfully at Clegg as he escaped out the door, tail between his legs. He sighed, wishing he'd taken the easy way out.