This Country is Going to the Dogs

When the midland Blues take the golden crown,

When the people of St George let the continent down,

When the 50 states are ruled by the orange clown,

There’ll be nowhere to run.

When the greatest of us grow old and die,

When the special one’s team makes you sigh,

When the government on you will spy,

Their freedom will be won.

When the value of your money falls,

 When an soulless ghoul rules Westminster’s halls,

When Mexicans start building walls,

The time of man is done.


Extract from the fall of man by the Pythia the oracle of Delphi.


Day One – The Beginning of the End.

Barry took in a deep lungful of beautiful British air, felt the beautiful British sun on his back and smiled a beautiful, well his Mum always said it was anyway, British smile.  “Makes you feel happy to be alive eh George?” he said patting the head of his beautiful British bulldog. George looked up at him and barked the affirmative wagging his stumpy little tail. Barry waved to Mr and Mrs Peterson who were walking their twin poodles Fluffy and Mr Pickles.

“Do you know why today is such a great day George?”

George tilted his head quizzically.

“Today is a great day because today is polling day. Today we can tell those unelected bureaucrats in Brussels to piss right off. We will be able to have bananas as bendy as we like, sell eggs by the dozen again and most importantly we can keep the beautiful British pint; half a litre my arse.”

At the end of the road they didn’t go left towards the Vat and Fiddle like they usually did on a Friday morning, instead they went right joining the crowd of people waving little union jack flags and talking excitedly; the town hadn’t had a buzz like this since the Queens Diamond Jubilee.

“See George everyone is out to vote to take our country back,” said Barry indicating the crowd with a sweep of his arm. “Once we leave the EU all our worries will be a thing of the past. More money for our NHS, more money for our schools and more money in my pocket; it must be true all those nice politicians told me so, and what reason would they have to lie? Not like those damn lying experts, with all their education and relevant experience, pah!” Barry cocked his head to the side and spat in the gutter. “Bloody experts going around studying things then thinking they can tell us what’s what. The empire was built on people going out and following their gut not thinking about things and doing research.”

“Here, here!” called a voice across the street; Barry gave the man a friendly salute before continuing.

“Mark my words George today is going to be a day to remember.” Barry and George followed the crowd of people as they wound down the street and pooled in the car park of the local church.

“You just stay here Georgie,” said Barry tying George to a bike rack with the other dogs. “I’m going to go inside cast my vote then we can go to the pub and get a nice cold pint of great British Carling.”

Barry ducked out of the church a couple of minutes later with a beaming grin on his face. “I did it boy! My leave vote is in we’re going to make Britain great again, you mark my words after today all of our worries are…” he cut off as the line of dogs tied up outside the church looked at him and growled as one; led by little his buddy George.

Day Two – The End of the Beginning.

After the disconcerting incident at the church Barry was careful to be extra nice to George and to keep him away from that Courtney Parson from down the street and her troublemaking German shepherd; bloody foreign dogs coming over here eating our dog’s food. It didn’t seem to help any though, no matter what Barry did George didn’t seem to be his usual happy self.

He’d tried, doggie beer, double treats and even extra-long games of fetch all to no avail. So in a final effort to cheer him up he reluctantly left the TV where the results of the US election were starting to creep in, grabbed George’s lead and headed for the door. “Come on boy lets go for a walk eh?”

They just made it to the park when Barry stopped dead.

“Is that? It is!” he cried. “It’s Nigel Farage the man of the hour I’ve got to go and shake his hand.” He went to cross the street to where Nigel stood laughing outside the Dog and Duck with a pint of mild in his hand, when his arm was almost yanked from its socket. Barry looked back to see George sat in a huff glowering at him.

“Come on boy that’s Nigel Farage,” said Barry tugging at the lead. “Saviour of Great Britain I want you to meet him.” George growled but got reluctantly to his feet and waddled after Barry.

“As they approached Nigel Farage’s phone beeped, he stopped fished it from his pocket and tapped at the screen. He read for a second then jumped up and punched the air triumphantly.

“We’ve done it and now America has done it,” Nigel cried. “We’ve beaten the experts and the bureaucrats and now the US has too.”

Barry laughed and shook Nigel Farage by the hand. It’s all down to you Nigel you saved us and now you’ve saved America. That Trump guys is just like you, a man of the people, a straight shooter, a…”

“Look Barry, we’ve had enough of this alright?” interrupted George standing up on his hind legs little Rory Calhoun. “I mean we’ve all talked about it and decided that enough is enough.”

“Wha?” said a flabbergasted Barry his mouth flopping open like a fish gasping for air.

“I mean we were all OK with you humans running around thinking you owned the place while you fed us, took us for long walks and rubbed our bellies but your levels of stupidity are reaching new heights and we just have to put an end to it.”

“Whoa? Wha? Who?” gasped Nigel Farage, his bulging eyes wide and gormless face frozen in a look of pure shock.

“Rub his nose in it it’s the only way he’ll learn,” called Chevy the golden retriever from across the street.

George pondered for a second then with a shrug grabbed Barry’s face and rubbed it on Nigel Farage’s soup stained suit saying “Bad Barry, Bad.”

Day Three – The End.

George took in a deep lungful of beautiful British air, felt the beautiful British sun on his back and smiled a beautiful British smile.  “Makes you feel happy to be alive eh Barry?” he said patting the head of his beautiful British human. Barry looked up at him and barked the affirmative wagging his imaginary little tail. George waved to Fluffy and Mr Pickles who were walking their twin humans Mr and Mrs Peterson.

“Do you know why today is such a great day Barry?”

George tilted his head quizzically.

“Today is a great day because today is another day where Nigel Farage is not in charge of anything…”



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