On July 1st, seventeen hundred and something, Canada declared it’s independence from England. Canada knocked on Britain’s bedroom door one night and said “Um, we got a job up north eh, so we’ll be like leaving in the morning. Take ‘er easy and thanks for everything, eh.” Now, England loved Canada as much as all her other colonies (except that bastard Australia) but also realized Canada was a bit “special”. You know… special. Entirely too concerned with chasing beavers, thought England. For the pelts said Canada, but England suspected there was more going on. And the whole French thing. Why did the Canadians insist on keeping those filthy French as pets? They’d fenced off an area the size of Quebec to keep them in, but of course the French are clever and kept escaping and causing trouble. Some of them made it as far as Louisiana, but luckily a hurricane wiped them out before they could spread into Texas and upset the Spanish. No, its better to just let Canada go, thought England. Who knew? Maybe it was for the best, there was still darling little America after all. England gazed out the kitchen window where little America was playing in the back hemisphere. She looked so cute out there, marching around waving that ridiculous flag she’d made…all bright colours and stars. “I’m a big girl now” she was singing as she marched around banging her drum and tootling her flute. “America”, called England “it’s time to come in, dear. Bring some tobacco and cotton with you, there’s a good girl.” America stopped marching and took on a petulant look. She mumbled something about taxation without representation (a phrase she’d heard on 60 Minutes) and began gathering up her things.
England sighed. America was a beautiful girl but was turning into rather a handful. Stubborn and given to flightiness, she wanted so much to grow up yet couldn’t seem to manage a few mangy settlements. England had never forgotten the time the Native Americans had had to bail out the first settlers. How embarrassing that had been. They were still snickering about it down at the Empire Club. America entered the kitchen and put down her load of tobacco and cotton and England said “Ammy, darling. Mummy has to go to South Africa on Saturday, the 4th. There’s trouble with the bloody Dutch again. Now, I’m going to trust you by yourself but promise me you won’t do anything silly, no parties, ok?”
That night America began text-messaging all her friends “big pRty my hous jul 4. bring fireworks hotdogs”. This later became known as the SMS heard 'round the world.
On July 1st, seventeen hundred and something, 
8 comments:
before you history purists get all bent out of shape:
On June 20, 1868, a proclamation signed by the Governor General, Lord Monck, called for the union of the British North America provinces in a federation under the name of Canada on July 1st, 1868.
The US Declaration of Independence was signed July 4, 1776. Copies were faxed back to England, who pretended they didn't get it.
The British fought the Dutch Boers in South Africa during the Boer War (1899-1902)
Two hundred and some years later, the hangover is really starting to kick in and there's still a mess in the front yard.
ever thought of being a history teacher?
This was fucking hysterical! You're like the Australian Dave Barry, but better. Like Dane Cook, but not retarded. So...we'll just call you the modern day Skookum.
god damn, that was one of the most cleverly written accounts of history i've read. eddie izzard would be proud. well done indeed.
um, thanks everyone. I had to look up this Izzard character...ee-gad! He's like a badly aged Julian Clary.
*sniffle*
i've never seen this country in a more beautiful light...
I insulted four countries (Canada, US, England, Australia) in that post by purposely exploiting cliches and stereotypes. Why is that not racist?
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