Brexit, Boris and Merry England..!

“What are you doing dear?” asked Prince Philip as he watched his wife the Queen of England juggle her head into a piece of gold wire. “What’s that funny thing you’re trying to place on your head?”
“It’s the British crown!” said the queen haughtily, “It’s just that I haven’t been wearing it these many years and you’ve forgotten how it looks!”
“And why have you put it on now?” asked her husband the prince consort.
“Didn’t the people vote for me to rule again?” asked the queen curiously, “Isn’t that what good ole Boris is trying to do? Isn’t Brexit about me ruling merry England again?”
“Ye gads!” shouted the old prince, “Then I better get my sword!”
“Sword?” asked the old queen still trying to balance her crown, “You want me to hold a sword when I can’t hold this damn crown? What would I need a sword for? And, who’s head would I chop off first?” asked the queen, as she tried to catch her crown as it fell.
“Why Boris Johnson’s of course!” said the prince, “At least cut off his stupid hair! Can’t these Prime Ministers of yours get a decent haircut anymore?”
“He does look a cartoon!” whispered the queen, “Maybe that’s the first royal duty I will do for the nation, ‘Off with Boris’s hair!’
“Hey Queenie, what’s that noise?” asked the prince as he glanced askance at the palace butler.
“There’s a mob at the gate your highness!” said the butler bowing.
Áha! Maybe they want their queen to stand in the balcony and wave at them!” said the queen looking pleased, “But first I’ll have to get this damn crown to stand straight, don’t want it falling off when I wave at them!”
“I don’t think they just want you to wave at them, your majesty!”
“Then what do they want?” asked the queen.
“They want you to throw some gold on them! Can you hear them?”
“What are they saying?” asked the queen.
“Now that they’re leaving the EU, there’s no food, no money, and no jobs!” said the butler, “They feel that you as their monarch will have to fix it for them! They remember tales of Merry England where the King and Queen threw gold and silver on the crowd and England lived happily ever after! Shall I bring down the treasure chests?”
“What do we do?” asked the prince consort, staring at his wife kicking the crown under the table.
“Run!” said his wife the queen.
“Run where?” asked the prince.
“To Europe!” whispered the queen as she hobbled to the back door of the palace, “We’ll seek asylum from these madmen, their Brexit, their Boris, and their Merry England..!”





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