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Chapter 67 - Disco Inferno
"I don't suppose you have Yorkshire Tea?" England asked. The response was a categorical 'no'. "Tetley?" Again a resounding 'no'.
England sighed. "What kind of establishment is this?" He asked desperately.
"Eet eez Big Mama's! Zis is a nightclub, not a tea shop, mon ami," France said, sidling up to him.
England was sat on a bar stool (no proper chairs he was dismayed to see) his hands resting on the rather sticky bar. He'd also asked for a j-cloth to clean the surface but the barman, who had a rather comprehensive collection of piercings and tattoos England noted, asked him if a 'j-cloth' was a cocktail.
England turned to look at France, who was still dressed in a poncho, pink lurex shorts and wellingtons. He did not look as if he were dressed for a nightclub. England, as always, was in his suit which of course could be worn in any situation anywhere.
"So where's this member of royalty who will help us?" England asked suspiciously. He doubted very much that a member of the royal house of Windsor would be in this grotty hole. He had to shout to make himself heard. The music, if it could be called that, was so loud it hurt his ears. "Can they turn this bloody racket down?" He shouted.
France shook his head, "Garage," he explained.
"Garage? What on earth are you talking about? I thought you said this was a nightclub. I don't see any cars."
"Zis is garage music," France said. "We should mosh a bit."
"I'm not moshing. Do I look like someone who 'moshes' whatever in God's name that is? And this music sounds like someone falling down the stairs." England mused.
But France had already took off and was 'dancing' if that was the correct term, but looked as if he were having an electric shock.
Unbeknownst to England, a police car had pulled up behind France's car and a short person in a tatty school uniform had got out. Sealand knew this establishment (there were few dodgy nightclubs in this part of the country he was unaware of as he'd once worked his dues as an insurance salesman around the Windsor area) and approached the back door.
He rapped lightly on the door and told the suspicious-looking eye at the hatch that he was there to test their fire extinguishers and flashed the 'eye' his school library card. Because this looked more official that it needed to be (being Swedish) it often got him into lots of different places. Thus Peter Kirkland, schoolboy extraordinaire, entered the nightclub. "Did two weird looking men come in, one a Frenchman in a poncho and the other a shifty-looking Englishman asking for tea?" Sealand asked the barman. When the barman hesitated, Sealand added, in his deliberate high-pitched schoolboy voice, "Only the Englishman is my Dad and I need him to sign my school trip form for tomorrow, my mum says so."
The barman nodded and pointed to the dance floor where France was 'moshing', jerking around as if he were having an epileptic fit. Jerk Dad England was nowhere to be seen.
"What about the Englishman?" Sealand asked.
"He said something about going for a tinkle. Whatever that means. I have no idea why he told me." The barman said. "Anyway, how old are you? 12? You shouldn't be in here."
Sealand ignored him. He was not interested in debating his age with this human bartender. He knew what England's 'going for a tinkle' meant and so he headed for the gents toilets. France, he noted was still 'moshing'. There was no sign of the tiara. He wondered where those two geniuses had stashed it. Certainly not the Porsche, there'd just been Charles Aznavour CDs in the glove compartment.
He slammed into the gents and tapped on each cubicle (he knew England would die rather than use the urinals - unless very drunk of course and even England hadn't had chance to get drunk in the brief time he'd been there). "Drugs raid!" Sealand called in his deepest voice (which wasn't very deep).
"I don't have anything stronger than aspirin!" England replied.
"Ha!" Sealand said. Gotcha he thought. "Come out with your hands up."
"Okay okay I have some Benylin, but only because I had a bit of a cough. I'm not addicted to it. I was for a while but I weaned myself off it when I started hallucinating the Tellytubbies." England said, coming out of the cubicle with his hands up.
Sealand shook his head. He could do with some back-up, not that he couldn't hold his own against Jerk Dad England. Putting on a French accent and going on about how he had a poster of Joan of Arc in his bedroom at Sweden and Finland's house (he didn't) usually got England into such an apoplexy of rage that he wouldn't be able to continue the argument and would have to go outside to dig up a hedge or something.
"You! Bloody you!" England exclaimed as he emerged from the cubicle. He had toilet paper stuck to his shoe, Sealand noted. "What are you doing here?"
"Hand over the tiara Dad," Sealand said. "I know how to get this all sorted out."
"Really? Shouldn't you be at bloody school?"
"What? On a Saturday night? No."
"And what have you done with those CIA men? I hope you haven't got them doing your maths homework."
Sealand ignored this and watched England wash his hands. "Where's the tiara, Dad?" He asked. "I won't ask again." He added, sounding quite threatening. Or as threatening as a 12 year old could sound. He wished his voice would break. It would be far easier being a criminal mastermind if he had a deeper voice. Getting the Chinese President to invest the Chinese economy into bath plugs had been quite difficult over the telephone with his schoolboy voice.
A man came out of one of the cubicles, was stared at by both Sealand and England, and ran out quickly shaking his head.
"He didn't even wash his hands!" England said, appalled.
"Tiara, Dad. Come on. I can help you get rid of it. Then you won't have to go to prison. Again. With France."
"France has it."
"No, he doesn't. I just saw him on the dancefloor."
"Yes he does."
"Stop arguing, Dad. You're always like this. When I insist I don't want ketchup on my chips you're the same. I'm telling you, I've just seen him."
"Bugger. What's he done with it then?" England asked and ran out of the gents.
"Well this sucks," Prussia said to nobody in particular. He was sat in the back of a Black Maria police van with Denmark and America.
"Ja, this is not a good ending for the Awesome Trio," Denmark said.
"Although remember that time when we were arrested in Lima for that stage invasion?" America asked.
"You shouldn't have been there. England didn't send a note with you," Prussia said in, quite frankly, a nasty tone.
America ignored him. But his lip quivered. He was fed up with being bullied by Prussia and the rest of them, being called an idiot or a 'kid'. He'd show them!
"Why is this an ending anyway?" Prussia said. "It's never the end!" He declared and began kicking the sides of the van.
"Stop that," a chilling voice said from the deep dark depths of the van.
The van had begun to move.
"Bloody hell, Belarus. I thought they'd put you in the women's van?" Prussia said. Appalled that he'd have to share with this psychopath.
Denmark fought the urge to scream.
America was too busy sulking about the last insult from Prussia to be afraid.
"They did," Belarus hissed. Her white face suddenly appeared next to the Prussian's own. "So what are we going to do?" She asked as the van sped around a corner and they all were flung around.
"Probably go to jail, do not pass go, do not collect 200 kroner," Denmark said with a sigh.
"Nyet!" Belarus shouted.
"Jeez!" Denmark said. "You don't need to shout. I'm sat here not in Copenhagen."
"I have too much to do," Belarus said in a very creepy voice.
"Is there any way you can find out where England is?" Denmark asked. "He's got Prussia's tiara."
"It's not my tiara!" Prussia said.
"I thought…"
"What did you think? Of course it's not mine! Do I look like someone who wears tiaras?"
"But why…?"
"You were there!"
"Where?"
"When we saw the news saying England and France were missing!"
Denmark belched loudly, "I've had six cans since then."
Prussia shook his head.
"Concentrate!" Belarus ordered. "We can get out of this. I have to get out of this! And yes I know where England is. I have put a brother tracer on him."
"Not magic," Denmark reminded Prussia.
America who had not spoken since Prussia had insulted spoke now, "Well you're going to need my help, as I'm the superpower."
"Nah not really," Prussia said dismissively.
"But I'm not going to help you," America added. "I'm going to get myself out and go back to DC."
"DC Comics? Really?" Denmark's eyes widened.
America would have liked to say yes and he was about to answer his friend, who was actually dimmer than himself but didn't because the van stopped - no doubt at some lights and America took his chance. He kicked, with all his superpower strength at the door which gave way as if it had seen one of England's Victoria sponges. He then jumped and rolled - which was really quite unnecessary as the van was at a standstill anyway.
"I'm going back to the States!" He yelled as he jumped up and then took evasive manoeuvres - weaving in and out, zig-zagging even though nobody was looking. "Where none of you will ever find me!" He called over his shoulder and disappeared.
"You mean DC?" Denmark asked.
"Damn!" They all heard from somewhere up the road.
"He's so dumb," Prussia said.
"He sure is," Denmark agreed.
Belarus looked from one to the other and then shoved them both out of the door and followed them.
"Move!" She shouted. And move they did. Into the nearest shop that was open - a 24 hour Tesco grocery store.
"Banging tunes eh?" Shouted someone to England. England disagreed. He was trying to get through the crowded dancefloor to France, who was jumping up and down to the cacophony of sound. Sealand followed.
"Does he have the tiara? Cos I can't see it." Sealand yelled.
"On Tuesday!" England shouted back, totally mishearing.
"Deaf idiot," Sealand said.
"The bins go out Tuesday!" England yelled.
"I bloody know. I live there for one weekend a month when you're not on your poetry retreat or trying to get into Great British Bake Off."
"It didn't break down. That was Russia!" England replied, mishearing again.
"No Dad! For God's sake…" Sealand gave up and went up to the DJ and shouted something in the man's ear.
"Is there a Frankie Bunnytoy?" The DJ shouted over the din, with Sealand stood next to him and trying to tell him that he'd actually said 'Francis Bonnefoy' and giving up.
England winced at that. What kind of godawful name was that? He managed to get to Francis and tugged his poncho sleeve.
"Dance avec moi," France yelled and ground his torso against him.
"I hardly think so," England replied.
"We're waiting for the guest DJ to come on." France whispered in his ear.
"Where's the tiara?" England yelled back.
"Mon sac."
"Where is your bag?"
France looked around. "I was dancing around it," he replied.
"You've got a round butt?" England yelled, not understanding.
"Mon sac!" France yelled and began scrambling about on the floor.
The said bag had been kicked around the dance floor and England skidded across to try to save it.
"I think I've got it!" He shouted as he picked it up.
"Merci mon cher. It is real leather! Not your rubbish plastic."
"It's got Queen Mary's tiara in it," England said.
"Did you just call me a queen?" The large bouncer asked, coming into the room and looking annoyed.
"Never," England said. The man was huge, but probably not as big as Russia and England had basically been living with Russia - the biggest psychopath out there - for a while now so did not feel the normal fear he would have done. So instead he stared at the man.
The man grabbed England as if to throw him - picked him up by the scruff of his neck and the back of his trousers.
"I say! Mind my trousers! This is a good suit!" England shouted.
Sealand stepped forward, "I can vouch that this man is up to no good," he told the bouncer and took France's handbag from England.
"Mon sac!" France yelled again and jumped into the affray, literally. By jumping onto the bouncer's back.
Sealand attempted to slither out. He'd estimated that instead of receiving the reward for returning the tiara, he could remove the diamonds and sell them on the black market.
But he just as he was about to exit the nightclub, he was stopped by the minor royal that France had come to meet.
"You've got Great Great Grandmother's tiara!" The royal said, peering into France's 'sac'. "I say! You varmint."
"What's he doing here?" England exclaimed, utterly appalled that a member of the royal family, a person in line to the throne, was in this utter cesspit of a nightclub.
"I'm the guest DJ," the royal prince said and proceeded to take the bag from Sealand's hands.
"Give that back!" Sealand yelled and then yelled at the top of his voice, "Stop touching me you pervert!"
The music stopped and everyone turned to look and then piled on the prince.
"He's not a pervert, he's a prince!" England said utterly appalled.
"All of my princes were perverts," France said from atop the bouncer's back. The bouncer was trying to shake France off as if he were some carbuncle or perhaps heavy baggage. Which of course he was.
"Get him!" Someone shouted, pointing at the prince and a dozen or more 'moshers' as France had called them (whatever that meant - England would later have this explained) began throwing beer bottles, chairs and tables at the prince, the bouncer and each other.
Sealand smiled, "Job done," he said and took the bag and began to slink away.
England stopped him, "I hardly think so," he said and then the Chanel bag slid out of Sealand's hand and across the dance floor.
"Oh bugger," England said and gently pushed several nightclub goers out of the way (as well as a prince of the realm) "Excuse me, your Highness, I say I do like your disco trousers," he added and tried to grab the bag.
France leapt off the bouncer's back, "Merci Alain but I can do zis myself," he said and went to England's aid.
"My name's not Alain!" The bouncer said. He had no idea why the Frenchman had a) called him by a French name or b) why he had thanked him for carrying him on his back.
France did not answer but slid on his knees across the dance floor in a manner England thought was unduly flashy. There was really no need for it at all, England thought.
"Mon sac!" France said and hugged his bag to him.
"Damn!" Sealand and England both said at the same time.
Unfortunately, France thought that the bag seemed unduly 'baggy', in fact the contents seemed to jingle, whereas before they did not. He opened it up and peered inside and then shut it again quickly, his face went pale.
"What's wrong?" England said as a body went flying past him, closely followed by a barstool.
"Uncle Artie! Help!" The Prince of the realm said as he was being rough-housed out of the nightclub. England ignored him.
"Did you lose your lipstick, France?" England sneered.
France slowly shook his head and then showed England the contents of his 'sac'.
England fainted.
The tiara, the priceless Queen Mary tiara, was in lots of small shiny pieces.
Meanwhile in the Tesco...
"They sell Carlsberg!" Denmark said.
"We are not here to buy beer," Belarus told him.
Denmark fainted into Prussia's arms.
"See what you did?" Prussia told her. "A shock like that could kill him."
"Shut up," Belarus said and peered through the shelves of Walkers crisps.
They were hiding in a 24-hour Tesco. But it didn't look like anyone was actually looking for them. Belarus was astounded at the incompetence of the British Police. After all they'd just jumped out of that van and nobody had come looking for them.
However, they were still handcuffed - by flimsy little plastic zip ties. As Belarus had successfully released herself from hers and had tried to show the two 'imbeciles' several times how to do it, she had now taken charge as being the only one with half a brain.
"Belarus?" Prussia attempted, whilst bringing Denmark round by slapping his cheeks with a pack of Danish bacon.
"Shut up."
"Can you get me out of this zip tie?" Prussia asked.
"Can you buy me some sweets?" Denmark asked, standing up and shaking his awesome hair.
"Are you children?" She asked, exasperated.
They both shrugged.
Belarus backed away towards the frozen food section.
"Oh ja, good idea, they might have some ice lollies," Denmark said.
Belarus ignored them both and dug in her pockets and pulled out what looked to be a small skull (it was actually plastic but it produced the correct response as both Nations stepped back quickly). "Cry into this," she said to Denmark.
"What for?" He stammered.
"So I can summon Arthur."
"I think you need to use PG Tips," Prussia told her.
"The tears of a thousand year old Nation dripped into this skull at the height of a full moon…" she intoned.
"I think you're a bit crackers, to be honest," Prussia said.
Belarus growled at him, ignoring Denmark's raiding of the frozen desserts freezer, she thought that by summoning England (as she'd instructed he could summon her after their first 'date' - it worked in reverse although he was oblivious of this fact) then she wouldn't have to put up with these idiots alone, and she could claim the reward for herself.
It was days like this that England actually wished the gum chewing American was with him. "Do you have any gum? Anyone?" He asked forlornly. He finally found somebody and took the gum from the man's mouth, skipped over the heap of bodies still fighting with France in the middle feeling someone's bottom/derrière and hurried to the bathroom. Sealand followed.
"Dad, we could flog the diamonds easier now. I know a man in Eastbourne…." He said this as if Eastbourne - the capital of holidaying old pensioners - was a hotspot for stolen diamond smuggling,
England was trying desperately to put the tiara back together with the aid of Wrigleys peppermint gum and was aiming to dry the 'glue' under the hand dryer, when the door opened and he got a shock.
"Your Majesty!" He said and dropped the tiara again and almost fainted again. "You're Big Mama?"
America meanwhile had, after making his way Special Forces style over open country (namely a car park and a field containing surprised cows), jumped in a taxi and finally arrived at 69 Trafalgar Gardens. He jumped over the gate (only losers opened gates), ignored the goat in the back garden and fumbled for his key. He was going to pack his stuff - his Star Wars pyjamas, Darth Vader light sabre and his action men (he wasn't going to leave them for Sealand) but something caught his attention as he opened the door and stepped over the threshold. He turned to do a double take. There was a wicker basket and something was moving inside it.
"Kittens?" He said, hopefully. Perhaps someone somewhere knew they had taken in six homeless felines and had decided to give them more. (Their current feline family of Jefferson, Franklin etc were all ensconced at Windsor Castle - funnily enough in the bride and groom's bridal chamber just for them to find as they were about to consummate their marriage.)
It wasn't kittens. America moved the blanket and stared wide-eyed. "Dude!" He said. Staring back at him with big blue eyes was a baby…