*FICTION* The Bulgamanian invasion, as it happened


All personal in this story are based on fictional characters, they bear no resemblance to anyone in the real world; even if they may happen to share names. All resemblance is completely coincidental and not based on fact, but fiction. We write this from a comedy perspective, in case you had not guessed.


Day 2:

I didn’t write anything yesterday, how could I? It was all such a shock, so new. We thought we could be prepared for this, but never have we underestimated something so badly.

Mr Bone sits opposite me; I’ve never seen a man weep so hard for so long. His face is red and scratched like a rash from the fighting; he looks like a strawberry he is that angry. He fought so beautifully, so bravely, with such courage; but we were overrun.

Nigel is missing. They kidnapped Paul. We knew this would happen, not the kidnapping part, admittedly, but we did warn you; we even had our own taxi which drove around London for the 2012 Mayoral election which explained, quite clearly, that we should say no to open door immigration. See, we did tell you. We were right all along. Now look at us, rations are getting low, and you can’t even get in to Waitrose because of all the congestion. Plus, my new chinos have been torn.

What have we become?

This is an extract from the diary of PPC, MEP, and Cllr candidate Norman Tedious.


Day 2: 12.34am

Camp is situated right on the frontier: between England and the EU. It’s an old and traditional community, where youngsters play in the meadows, shooting wildlife in the face whilst wearing tweed. It’s a place where old men make lewd and inappropriate comments to people they hardly know to show off the zest and spirit of what it means to be British. It’s a place where we talk about the good old days, and drink beer with like-minded folk all day long.

It won’t stay this peaceful forever though, we all know that there is a great battle about to commence.

We share turns to patrol the walls and to keep an eye out on the seas for the odd renegade dingy trying to enter into Britain.

“What’s the password?” said a voice behind the camp’s armory door.

“LibLabCon” I replied hastily.

“Ah, Norman, I didn’t realise it was your turn to patrol,” said a voice from behind the wall.

“You know me Steven, I’m always early for the patrol.”

“Did you hear about Nigel?” asked Steven.

“I heard the Bulgumanians got him”, I replied.

“It’s a dark day indeed for Britain. If the Bulgumanians can go after Nigel, then they can go after anyone. They are more powerful than we first though, Norman. Do you have your Ray Gun?” Steven asked.

“Yes I have it. What is the best setting? It’s currently set to Muslamic.”

“No you need it set to Bulgamism” Steven replied.

“Ah, but of course!” I said. “No Bulgumaniac is getting past me today, Steven. You have my word.”

“I can have a lot more than that” Steven replied, winking.

“You knew? You always knew..?” I had to pause, things had gotten intense quickly.

“For Nigel.” I said.

“For Nigel.” Steven replied.

And with that strength, I mounted the wall. Here I am, Norman, protector of Britain. Come get me Bulgumaniacs.

This is an extract from the diary of PPC, MEP, and Cllr candidate Norman Tedious.



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