The Year is 2030
The first of the soldiers to arrive in Brussels look around the deserted streets and scour the rooftops for snipers. The soldiers are seasoned vets from two tours of duty on the tough Irish border. Even with the nomansland and a 25 km killzone it was a tough gig by any standards. Even with UV goggles, picking off English-looking people under a slate-grey drizzly Irish sky is tricky work.
The soldiers stand warily at the threshold of the main Parliament building. Although the iron doors were blown to smithereens long ago, the gloom within seems eerie and chilling. Piles of rotten perfectly straight bananas, mouldy bottles of champagne not from champagne sprawl next to boxes stacked to the ceiling, spilling their contents of grey immigration detention centre cards onto the mouldy floor.
From deep within the chamber, a faint moaning runs round the corridors in the putrid air. As they shuffle towards the sound, their eyes accustomed to the gloom. they can make out row upon row of steel cells,stacked 3 high and 6 deep around the chamber. Shackled to the ceilings, gaunt and near naked, surrounded by their own mess, hang the remaining MEPs who were not lucky enough to escape in The Great Exit of 2027. Hundreds of MEPs, all men, since women had refused to serve under The Mad Antichrist Juncker, – had bribed the Norwegian mercenary guards and secreted themselves away in crates of illegal too-large tomatoes, heading for landfill in what had once been Germany, and then stowed away on a nuclear munitions train bound for Moscow from Paris, whose government had agreed to supply the 100 year old Putin with arms in exchange for restoring French as the official diplomatic language of the new USSR..
At a small dusty corner table at the far end of the chamber, his back hunched, his eyes staring out from a collapsed face, sits a man in a rumpled Savile Row suit. his tie is gone. His hands twitch. As he rocks back and forth, seemingly unaware of the strangers who have entered, he mumbles over and over “this is a transitional negotiation … we are ruling nothing in and nothing out … remaining within the customs union is stil … er … stil ”
“Never! You hear me? Never!” the shrill, cracked maniacal gallic voice cracks across the chamer from high up in the vaulted ceiling. Gazing up into the void, the soldiers can make out a small figure with wild, startled eyes, clutching an American-made semi-automatic weapon, still bearing its 80% import duty tag around it’s handle. The Trump Pump, as it affectionately became known by US Police and EU Storm troopers, was fitted with AIT [Alien Identification Technology] and could take out over 300 foreign nationals per minute without damaging either buildings, bottles of alcohol or residents of gated communities. It was said that The Pump had killed over 500,000 Mexican people as they tried to escape back to Mexico from Texas, over the 30 foot southern wall.
“Monsieur Juncker” calls the perfectly coiffed unit commander Gina Miller. “we are here at your request to remove Mr Davis from the Chamber. We are taking him to Chequers, a secure hospital for the dangerously insane in Britain – that’s abroad, sir”
“Non! I haven’t finished porung scorn and derision on him and zat bitch May yet!”.
“Mrs May is no longer Prime Minister, monsieur. She was carried out of her house in Downing Street in the middle of the night by a mob led by a large blonde man on a bicycle and hasn’t been seen since. That was in 2018. Since then England has been ruled by The Queen”
“Quoi? What do you mean England? What happened to ze United Kingdom? What happened to parliamentary democracy?”
“Oh I tried that out in the courts, Monsieur. It’s a load of bollocks [I love saying that word BOLLOCKS]. It was invented a thousand years ago to keep the peasants thinking they are in charge.it’s all been torn up now”
“But what about all ze politicians? ze rest of ze, how you say, royal family?”
“Well, the writing was sur le mur as soon as the ginger guy married the ethnic from America. that was that. The Queen arranged a bus tour of Windsor Safari Park for Christmas for the 44 next in line. Somehow the bus broke down. A 120-year-old bald man was seen hobbling away from the scene but never caught. The doors opened and 25 lions escaped into the car park where the bus was parked. I’m pleased to say it was a European-made bus, monsiur”
“But you said England. Not United Kingdom. England!”
“Oh that fell apart quickly enough after Brexit, monsieur. The health service collapsed within a few months, agriculture ground to a halt and a police state was implemented, financed by Russian oligarchs who miraculously were unaffected by the blanket ban on immigration. The Welsh declared independence and 95 percent of the people starved to death within a year. the Scots rebuilt Hadrian’s wall, changed their name to L’Ecosse and banned English language in schools, Broadcasting and public places”
“But I thought zey spoke English?”
“Not as we know it, monsieur”
“And ze Norzern irish?”
“Oh no need to worry about them, monsieur, they are still arguing aboutwhether sex actually exists and who last saw a vision of the Virgin Mary. They have no idea what’s happening anywhere else, apart from boxing and golf.”
“And ze politicians in Westminster?”
“They went quietly, once they knew they could all keep their London apartments and play mock battles in Parliament Square. The Roundheads are doing quite well this season, but it’s anybody’s game”
… to be continued