3.

.oOo.

~ The Boy Who Cried Nation ~

.oOo.

Once upon a time, there lived a dreadful little boy named Sealand.

First of all, his name was dreadful enough in itself; how on Earth could something possibly be sea and land at the same time? I suppose it makes sense if one's territory had beaches or something of the sort, but this boy's territory – if you could even call it that – was nothing more than a rusted metallic oil platform supported by two lumps of concrete, the whole thing suspended over waters that were much too close to England.

It was a quite pitiable sight, really. Except no pity whatsoever was felt for the twat. He didn't deserve it.

Why, you might ask? Well, because first impressions are wrong. He may look like a typical young lad, all pleasantly bright and jolly – and his eyebrows do look rather good, I must say – but that was very much not the case. Underneath the innocent-looking facade that his childlike nature seems to prompt all others to believe as reality, the boy was simply too bloody annoying.

I suppose this tale is similar enough to the story of that one lad who cried out about a wolf, but at least a wolf is a believable and rational subject to call attention to, unlike Sealand's ridiculous monstrosity. Somehow, whenever he looked at that combination of rusty metal and concrete, his eyes saw a fully-grown nation whose power surpassed that of England himself.

Another difference between Sealand and the boy from the other story was that, at first, the other boy was joking about seeing a wolf. Sealand, however, was never joking about his claims, no matter how much England wished he was.

But, alas. Wanker really thought he was a country.

At first, none of the real nations believed him, for all the right reasons.

So, what did the dismayed lad decide to do? Kindly and respectfully address his elders and use sound reasoning to argue his case, perhaps?

Why, nothing of the sort, of course; instead, he put his best effort forward by continuing to throw fits and sneaking into important world meetings he was clearly not invited to. He strived to irritate England as much as possible, which initially did absolutely nothing, as the perfectly calm and collected older nation had learned over the years to tune out any background lunacy for the sake of his own sanity. Eventually, however, it was learned that Sealand had supposedly sought out a certain American nation for advice on independence – which the sodding twat had happily given to him – and so it was that England returned to his humble abode one day to find that all of his tea had been removed from the premises and unceremoniously launched off of the metal clump of an oil platform.

Allow me to say that it was all England could do to not dangle the wretched boy off of his precious platform and release him into the water along with the beloved tea. The same goes for the American wanker.

See, the issue was that Sealand's logic was entirely backwards; in order to gain validation, he felt it absolutely necessary to infuriate every being he came into contact with beyond measure. It made absolutely no sense, and neither did his utter surprise when he realised that, still, nobody believed that he was a true nation.

At last, when the temper tantrums escalated to unspeakable extremes (as if the prior scenarios were not bad enough already) and the blasted child was one step away from being strangled lest he himself strangle one of the nations, Sealand thought himself to finally be accepted as a real nation.

But that was not the case, since the Sea Twat was clearly not a nation and would never be, and he was just too moronic to realise it.

The End.