England was sitting in his favorite armchair, drinking his favorite Earl Grey -perhaps the last of it he would be able to afford for a long time.
He glared at the bottle of prescription blood pressure pills. He wouldn't have had to take them if they hadn't bloody let wanking Turkey and Greece into the Eurozone. Bloody wankers.
A knock sounded at his door.
"Who is it?"
"C'est moi, Angleterre."
Bloody Frog. "What do you want?"
"I have a proposition for you, mon lapin-"
"I'm not your bloody rabbit!"
"Non, non. C'est vrai….May I come in?"
"No. Go away, Frog."
"I have brought tea."
Pause. "Fine."
The Frenchman entered the room, for once not attired in ridiculous clothing. Instead, he wore a very formal business suit and a grey tie. He set a small wooden chest on England's desk -presumably, that held the tea.
"I assume that you are not on holiday in London."
"Non, I need a favor, mon chou."
England glared at him. "There's a bottle of blood pressure pills right there."
"Non, I have tried zhat. I need a more permanent solution, Angleterre."
"I'm not marrying you, you bloody, wanking Frog!"
"Zhat is not what I suggest. I wish to….I do not know the words -faire un-"
Spain burst into the room. "England, make me your colony!"
England spat out his tea. "Excuse me?"
"C'est terrible! Please, Angleterre, we want to be your colonies!"
"Por favor, England!"
"Do either of you have more tea?"
"Anything you want, mon coeur!"
"Fine." England rummaged around in his top desk drawer for a moment, and then removed a thick stack of papers. "Here; fill these out."
"Merci, Angleterre."
England shrugged. "As long as you keep your hands to yourself, you bloody frog."
That evening, England was sipping some tea and watching the news. He actually was sort of dozing of, and not paying attention. But then:
"The Prime Minister of Denmark has announced this morning that Denmark will become a colony of Norway, effective immediately."
England spat out his tea.
What?!