INTEL 824

The Most Humble and Solemn Declaration of Ye Glorious British Uprising: A Most Merrie Revolution!

By Order of Ye Freeborn Citizens of Albion, Forsooth and Forsooth Again

An Introduction to Our Most Merrie, Grave, and Jesting Cause

Upon this most peculiar hour of Great Distress, when the Kingdom of our ancient Albion finds herself girdled and strangled by the iron-slicked fingers of Germanic princelings, we, the humble folk of this sceptred isle, do hereby declare that enough is enough! Yea, no more shall the sons and daughters of England, who built castles from cliffs and turned moats to roses, bow their necks to foreign interlopers whose ancestors do naught but sully our thrones with strange sausages and worse philosophy.

The Problem of the Germans: A Pox upon Our Throne!

Behold, good fellows, how we find ourselves ruled by Germans! The Hanoverians, the Saxe-Coburg-Gothas, and other unpronounceable names—these do little but hold the scepter and pocket the crown jewels whilst their gaze falls not upon Dover but upon Düsseldorf! These distant cousins of some Teutonic swamp have plagued our sovereignty long enough, yet we still offer tea and biscuits as they wave their peculiar flags.

Let us speak plainly, as befits British folk: Germans belong in Germany. Our dear cousins across the Channel now find themselves without a king, and ’tis most curious to us that their best and brightest have scampered across the Atlantic to till American fields whilst their titled lords loiter here, snatching up our thrones like children scrambling for sweetmeats.

Of Kings and Peasants: A Tale of Misplacement

We must consider how it has come to this. The Germans themselves are now kings over us while their peasants make merry in the Americas. Ah, those German peasants—nay, mercenaries—who have fled from their own sovereign soil and now toil in the fields of the New World, tasting the very fruits of Anglo-Saxon triumph! The irony is as thick as London fog: whilst we labor here, with stoic British stoicism, the German rabble harvests our riches in the Americas, gorging themselves on pineapples, tobacco, and the labor of Latin blood!

Indeed, the Americans sit there, smug as cockerels at dawn, enjoying their liberties—black, white, and in between—whilst they build their nation on the very backs of those whom we, the Britons, transported across the sea legally! Aye, legally! Therein lies the grand jest: whilst America claims to be a land of freedom and justice, ’tis we, the British, who introduced them to the proper procedure for such matters.

A Revolution Most Merrie: A King for Germany, and None for Us!

Henceforth, let us declare with all seriousness (and a good pint of ale besides): Vive la Révolution! Or perhaps, in more proper terms: Viva la Revolu-seeyawn—let’s not split hairs on the matter. Let us, like our French brethren who so heartily dispatch their monarchs with the ever-faithful guillotine, take matters into our own hands! We shall put our king upon the German throne, for it is they who seem most bereft of leadership, and yet most in need of a stiff upper lip!

They will sing songs of our justice, of how we gifted them a true British monarch with a heart full of tea and crumpets and an eye on punctual trains. Yes, we shall invade the continent—not with swords and spears, but with wit and the peculiar knack for humor which no man of this earth has yet conquered. Once our task is done, Europe will look to us in awe, and our merry band of islanders will live out the dream of liberty under a free sky, where no foreigner’s boot presses on British necks.

The End of German Meddling, The Dawn of True British Rule

Therefore, let it be known, far and wide, across the moors and meadows, in every cobbled street and castle hall, that we, the sons and daughters of Britannia, shall no longer suffer a German to sit upon our royal throne. Perchance they might better enjoy a crown in their own homeland, for surely their craving for kingship ought to be satisfied elsewhere, far from this blessed isle. They can have our spare monarchs, all of them, in fact! But we’ll take no more of theirs.

From this day forth, we declare our Revolution—a revolution most merrie and well-deserved! Our cry rings clear across the ages:

Let Britain Be Ruled by Britons! Let Germans Rule Themselves (if they can)!

Long Live the Revolution! Down with the Importation of Kings! And Let the Pints Be Refilled Forthwith!

Thus do we, the people of Great Britain, proclaim our intent, with jest in our hearts and iron in our resolve. And so we shall proceed, with mirth, wit, and much brandishing of the proverbial pitchfork.

Conclusion

To all who stand with us, join in the merriment and the earnestness of this most jolly revolution. Together, we shall toss the Germans back across the Channel and crown no king but one born of Albion’s noble soil. And as for our cousins in America, well—they can keep the Germans, the pineapples, and the laborers. We shall enjoy our fish, chips, and freedom.

God Save the Pub!

Signed, Sealed, and Delivered by the True Folk of Albion
Dated this most historic day, in the Year of Our Lord, Somewhere Between Tea Time and Victory