It was going to be a good day.

It was going to be a good day.

England just knew it. It was a rare sunny with no clouds or cold breeze sort of day. He had no meetings and only one stack of paper work to finish. He had the whole afternoon off too; for sewing, drinking tea, reading, gardening or whatever he fancied. Best of all, he hadn't seen any of his brothers for weeks.

It was going to be a good day.

4 voice mails on his phone… not unusual but not usual.

He pressed the button to hear them on speaker.

The first one was quiet with loud voices in the back ground and had to be played again to be heard. Mainly it was groaning and pleas to die quickly and instantly – poor sap had a bad hang over. He paused, trying to recognise the very familiar voice when he heard the voices in the back of the call. He played the recording a third time, listening to the back ground noise.

"Oi! Wales! Yer callin' Iggy? Tell him I say hi!" A cheerful Irish accent and now he recognised the speaker on the phone as Welsh. Oh, so Wales was calling him and North Ireland was with him.

"Shut it, ye ninny! Tell him 'Hi' when you git yer call! Damn drunk…" An angry Irish man as well. Strange Ireland was there…

Wales and Ireland didn't usually visit each other.

"Actually Ireland, we're all 'Damn drunks'. How the bloody fuck else did ye think we ended up in jail, eejit?" A Scottish accent too? So Scotland is there as well.

That would make it all of his brothers in jail …

WAIT!

JAIL?

"Alba! Dinnae be so harsh te Ireland."

Suddenly Wales voice yelled over the phone, "AH! My fuckin' heed!", followed by the sound of throwing up and the disconnection dial. England took a deep breath.

Today can still be a good day….

No! It was going to be a good day!

Fuck his brothers! He won't let them ruin it.

3 voice mails left!

"Hiya Iggy~!" North Ireland yelled happily over the phone. Was he still in jail? He was tempted to just delete the message than listen to the end.

"Wales hadda wee accident. He threw up!"

"Gawd! Just tell him we're in prison so we can leave!"

"Oh yeah. England can you dee meh a favour and bail me, Alba and Cymru oot of jail? Ye canne fergit Ireland. This is his fault."

"I heard that! Ye damn tattie fucker! Once ye are back in this cell, I'm gonnae~"

"Shhh! Iggy might hear you."Scotland hadn't spoken yet so England felt relieved as North Ireland and Ireland argued over the phone.

"Yer phoning England?"

"Aye."

"Dinnae call him! I rather spend tha night here!"

"But Wales called him…"

"Wales is a sheep shagg~ ARGH! Fuck Wales! Yer still conscious." It sounded like a bolt of lightning had hit Ireland.

"With yer yelling – yes….." He could hear North Ireland laughing and could almost visual this scene in his head. There was a loud crack all of a sudden over the phone.

"I'm leeving fer coffee. I'll be back… maybe."

"Oi! Dinnae relock the bloody door! Git back here!"

"Oh! Got to go! Alba just broke out of jail but he left us behind and now the police look angry! Bye~"

"Wait! Ye fergot to tell him where we a~" The sentence got cut off.

England felt himself nearly hyper-ventilating.

This was going to be a good day.

This was going to be a good day.

This was going to be a good day.

2 voice mails left.

"It's my bloody fucking turn! So sod off Paddy!" Ireland apparently.

"Listen you English bastard! I don't like you but since my phone was confiscated, I don't know any other numbers!" Charming. Not exactly the best way to convince someone to come pick you up.

"Me, North Ireland and Wales are in jail! Scotland went fer coffee but apparently got stopped on tha way oot." Obviously. The police aren't just going to let a man break out of his cell and waltz out the door. "He's been confined to a separate cell or sumthing. So Hurry Up Ye Bassa!"

"Hey Iggy! Look Wales is asleep!"

"He cannae see through the damn phone ye dumb bastard! And he's unconscious with a bloody hangover. No asleep!"

"Can I speek to Iggy agen?"

"Nee, ye had yer turn! One call per person!"

"Nae fair! I dinnae git a gud talk with him!"

"Weel, I dinna~ ACK!" England flinched as he heard the phone being dropped. He heard police men shouting over the phone.

"Report! Report! One of the prisoners is trying to strangle another prisoner through the bars! We need assistance!"

"Hug attack!"

"ACK! Argh! Help!"

"Gimme tha phone!"

"NEE!"

"TASER HIM!"

"WHICH ONE?"

"BOTH OF THEM! JUST TASER THE SON OF A BITCHES!"

"Bzzzt~! Bzzzt~!"

"FU~!"

The line went dead. England silently noted to himself that still no one had bothered to say where the jail was or even the country that it was in.

Today was going to be a good day.

That's right England. If you keep saying that, maybe someone somewhere will believe you. Maybe Italy?

The last voice mail.

He guessed the last voice mail would be Scotland but was surprised to hear a certain frog's laugh.

"Ohonhonhonhonhon~ Mon petit lapin!" England reached for the delete button. "I jus' 'ad an interesting talk with ton frère." God dammit… Now he had to listen…

"L'Ecosse et moi were 'aving such a nice converzation. Apparently there was a petit incident and mon ami 'as ended up in jail. 'e asked me to pick 'im up but I'm très buzy zo I zaid I would ask tu." England sighed. "'e zaid zat was fine and zat tu can take ton time. 'e iz apparently 'aving un bien time in 'is cell."

Now that sounded the complete opposite of the others and what he heard over the phone.

"Zey are in the Dublin police station on Upper Kevin street by za way. Au revoir ma cherie." England glared at the phone. He didn't know a lot of French but he knew enough to recognise that France used the female version of 'dear'.

Today was going to be a good day.

Today was goin~ Fuck it.

No, today was NOT going to be a good day.

Today was going to be the same as usual – one long stream of bad luck…

OMAKE –

He didn't know why he was doing this. After all, their annoying stream of useless and violent voice mails had ruined his good day.

He stood outside the cell with his arms, looking in at three of his four brothers.

Ireland and North Ireland will hand cuffed to opposite sides of the cell, scowling at each other. They looked bruised, angry, hung over and slightly crispy. Wales was curled up in the corner, asleep or unconscious.

North Ireland noticed him first and beamed. "Hey Iggy!"

"Ye Bassa! Whit the hell took ye so bloody long?"

"Uhhh… My head…." The two Irish men glanced nervously at him. They lowered their voices now.

"Did ye pay the bail, at least?"

"Yes but I don't know why. You guys are wankers."

"Cheers Iggy! How much?"

England stared at North Ireland who suddenly twitched. He paused a moment and the auburn jerked again. He turned to Ireland who convulsed as well. It looked like a side effect of being tasered.

"How much?"

"Oh! Uh… 75 euro each…. I expect back every single cent." (They use Euro not pounds in Ireland)

"Aye."

"… Aye ye bassa…"

"Urg…."

"I'll take that as a yes, Wales…."

"Nrg…"

"The police officer will be here in 15 minutes to undo the handcuffs. Apparently he is busy with another prisoner. Now, do you know where Scotland is?"

"How the hell should we know? We have been stuck here fer hours!" England rolled his eyes.

He walked back to the reception. Just before he reached reception though, he heard laughter.

He glanced in the door and saw a dark room with multiple TV screens. Two men were watching one screen in particular and laughing. One was a tall man with light brown hair and a police uniform, the other was handcuffed with hair the colour of ripe strawberries. They were both holding a handful of playing cards.

"Two two of a kind."

"Full hoose."

"Dammit… Ye ken I could play betta if I didnae hafta wear handcuffs…"

"Sorry mate. That's tha rules. All prisoners have tah wear handcuffs oot of tha cell."

"Fair enuff."

"And ye did break oot of yer cell earlier…."

"Sorry aboot that. I was hung ova and meh brothers were driving me crazy."

"I ken. Had tah taser two of them last night."

"I heard."

"How did ye break oot of yer cell?"

"Jus' lucky I guess."

"Iain?" The two turned around in surprise.

"Oh Hey. Took long enuff. Bloody thought I was gonnae die from auld age." The officer stood quickly.

"Sir. I presume yer Arthur Kirkland."

"Yes."

"Bail's been paid. I'll release yer brothers now." The officer turned to Scotland. "Sorry Iain but ye hafta go back to yer cell for a few minutes while I get tha others."

"Nae problem."

"What were you two doing in here?" England asked curiously.

"Wotching the CTV from last night." England watched the buzzing, dull coloured screen.

He recognised Ireland shaking his fist at North Ireland who seemed to be standing on a table, jumping like he was trying to break it or some weird dance. Wales was crying in the back ground, complaining about something.

"Where are you in this Scotland."

"Ootside smoking."

Suddenly the bar erupted into a fight as North Ireland rugby tackled a random drunk. The whole pub was in a huge fight. Men in black uniforms suddenly surged in, suppressing the crowd. Out of the corner of the screen, you could see two auburns trying to rip each other apart, a screaming topless Welsh man and ten people tackling a red head who just walked in.

England stared at it wide eyed while the other two laughed again.

"Bloody hell…"

"Dee ye think we could git a copy of tha tape?"

"Nee. Security laws and stuff."

"Aye." Scotland stood. "Back tah me cell?"

"Yep."

Scotland was guided back to his cell. He sat in it comfortably as his cuffs were removed. He rubbed his wrists a bit before picking up a magazine in the corner of the cell and opening it. England raised an eyebrow when he saw the two remaining paper cups from Starbucks and an empty packet of cigarettes. How the hell did Scotland smuggle these in?

He looked around and suddenly realised he had been locked in the cell with his brother. He heard voices down the hallway grow louder. The door opened again and the officer was there with two twitching auburn men and a semi-conscious blondish brown.

"Alba…" Ireland sounded pissed. "I cannae believe ye left us in tha cell!"

"Yer twitching." Scotland stated absently, ignoring Ireland's previous statement.

"I ken that!" He snapped. "And Paddy! If ye do not stop hugging meh, I'm gonnae rip off yer arms and~"

"Yer gonnae git tasered agen, Seamus." The Scotsman reminded him.

Ireland muttered something violent under his breath as Scotland squeezed past and out of the cell.

The brothers were escorted out by the officer. Scotland and the man exchanged a handshake just as the five were leaving. "Fancy a drink some time?"

"With tha way ye punched meh afta getting drunk!"

"Actually I meant coffee."

"Och, aye. I dinnae mind then." They shared a laugh.

"ALBA! Git yer ass ova here!"

"Shut it Duffy!"

"I TOLD YE NAE TAH CALL ME THAT!"

"Calm down Seamus! The taxi is here."

"Thank you Iggy!"

"Mmm… ugh…"

"God… There goes my good day…."

(A/N – I wrote the first bit while hyper as a joke but then my friend liked it and asked me to post it…

So Taadaa!

It's not good or anything, just a random drabble, I did in boredom and hyperness.

Scotland was friends with an officer so he broke out of his cell to ask if he could get a different cell and coffee ect. I know it's OOC and unrealistic but I did write this without any intent to actually put it online. It was just something to make me giggle and help me over my writer's block.

Don't blame me.)