England, 2024
Led by Gov Sadiq Khan, the Free City of London applies for EU membership.

Though wary of Jacobites, a panicked Lord Protector Boris the Pasty orders Chief Justiciar Rees-Mogg's army away from the bloody Snowdonia Front to reinforce the assault on the Luton Salient.
Meanwhile, in Ulster, Protestant and Catholic alike has found it rather easy to accustom themselves to things like the Euro, harp-embossed burgundy passports, and no food queues.
While High Constable Ashdown remains confident in the Metropolitan Militia's ability to defend Luton and hold the Chiltern Line against the Royalist offensive, there are fears that the more militant Corbynite Action Committees may be planning an insurrection behind the lines.
Though there are still disputes over oil and the occasional Unionist mail bomb, life in Scotland has been rather sleepy since independence. Many are wondering whether PM Sturgeon will stay on to preside over the fifth anniversary celebrations of Scotland's admission to the EU.
From his hold deep in the abandoned coal mines of South Wales, Bard-King Tom sings the war songs of his people as Royalist jets blast the coked earth overhead into a smoldering hellscape.

A sun will rise, the Songster sings,
A sun will rise all red
To melt away the Saesneg boot!
Despite hopes of anti-Royalist forces in the North coalescing into a much needed Second Front, the Yorkshire Milneite Brigades have focused on purging territories under their control of “Blairites” and “Red Tory Scum.”
Whenever asked if they regret relocating to Canada, and whether they would consider returning to England, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex find it impossible to restrain their laughter.
Having declared independence just as several Vanguard-class submarines were holidaying at Penzance, the Republic of Kernow finds itself among the world’s nuclear powers.

A hefty bargaining chip when negotiating terms of Re-Union with Lord Protector Boris’s flailing regime.
Confronted by reporters at a Mykonos hotel, former PM Theresa May castigates the Greek press for its denigrating portrayal of the English and rude cartoons ridiculing “Anglo-Saxon Spongers,” before asking if anyone would like a newspaper or coffee with their morning wake up call.
In Leicester, locals are beginning to get fed up with the queues at Tesco.
In Rosenfeld, Manitoba (pop. 4,125), newcomers Cam Davidson and wife Gwen look forward to a quiet life away from the "hustle and bustle and shaming oinks" of city life.
England 2024

Traveling down the M6 has become rather a lot more interesting since the Sundering, despite the best efforts of Lord Protector Boris's troops and their "convoy system."
Though he hasn't been seen in public for three years, Jeremy Corbyn remains alive and well, contrary to "Red Tory Blairite ZioScum slander." Commissar Milne assures us that the Absolute Boy is directing the great class struggle from his secure location with "Stakhanovite vigor."
Transferring through Birmingham New Street station just isn't what it used to be.
England 2024

England 2024

Nigel Farage has not stopped laughing in five years. He never sleeps. He says that he will never die. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, our Nigel. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.
Though enjoying its independence and a growing reputation as the "Monaco of the North," the Manx Consortium and the merchant-princes of its Governing Board struggle to cope with the waves of refugees fleeing across the Irish Sea from the war zones of Northern England.

"I told you, we're an anarcho-syndicalist commu—"

"Dan, now is not the time."

"Seems silly now, I s'pose. But it just sounded so nice, y'know? Havin' a blue passport 'n all. Anyways, I hear they still got some food in this next village."
Scots from Shetland to Stranraer tune in to watch the opening ceremonies of the 2024 Summer Games in Paris, anxious for their team to improve upon its disappointing premiere at Beijing's 2020 Winter Games.

From his stronghold on Anglesey, Chief Justiciar Rees Mogg plots. And dreams. He doesn't mind being in Lord Protector Boris's pale shadow. For now.

He is patient, is Rees Mogg, for he knows that he who controls the Emergency Jaffa Cake Reserves controls everything.

“Don’t you worry, Ma’am. We’ll make sure you get your toilet paper ration home safe and sound.”

Despite the Royalists' otherwise firm hold over the Midlands, an Anarchist insurrection has left the newly-declared "Free Borough of Northampton" under the control of the Guy Fawkes Collective and their mysterious leader, known only as "The Mandrill."

Though considered legally unfit to govern, images of King Charles III ("Barmy King Charlie") are occasionally circulated by Lord Protector Boris to keep up Royalist morale.

Here His Majesty poses at his Highgrove hermitage, surrounded by his closest advisors.

"Cheer up, luv. At least ya got some before they run out. Can't imagine what it tasted like. I'da joined in, but this petrol rationin's been grand for us rickshaws, innit? Course, I never did much like goin' to the zoo, meself."

At a press conference with visiting Russian Foreign Minister Lavrov, Lord Protector Boris defends his Government's use of Wagner Group mercenaries as soldiers and personal bodyguards, thanking the Group for its "generous, round the clock, very handsome presence."

"I'm just so excited. I've never been to the Tate before. You worked here long? Reckon they got any Banksy?"

At Sandringham, Prince William smiles for the cameras. He tires of the sodden Norfolk fens, the "protective sequestration" ordered by Lord Protector Boris.

He is but an ornament—Prince Regent to a mad father. But he shall soon be King. So William smiles. And plans.

In Royalist-held Portsmouth, the Dock Workers, Nurses, and Amazon Drudges Union are growing more bold in their demonstrations, their ranks swollen by the many Royal Navy sailors discharged from the rusting hulks in the harbor.

Picture of Lord Protector Boris moments after Foreign Minister Lavrov accepts a previously-unannounced offer for His Majesty's Government to transfer all of its remaining gold reserves to Moscow until "stability" returns to Britain.

"I don't care what bloody papers you got. Hand over the Maltesers and nobody gets hurt. I SAID HAND 'EM OVER! Christ knows how long it's been... What are those? Jeans? Right, them, too. And any other denim you lot got. Come on, come on!"
"Hello. I'm Tony Blair. And for only €0.50 a day, you can provide water, food and medicine for people whose only mistake was being born British. Just €0.50—that's less than a croissant at Paul's. But it can make all the difference in the world to the people of these islands."

Every night, Royalist soldiers besieging Northampton hear the townsfolk wailing, bonfires bloodying the sky. They chant.

"Cometh the Moment—Cometh the Mandrill!"
"Cometh the Moment—Cometh the Mandrill!"

They chant without end. And the soldiers shiver in the dark.

"Of course President Putin is more than happy to take care of the Crown Jewels during this difficult time for the—heh—'United' Kingdom. We are also pleased with the Lord Protector's decision to peg the pound to the ruble, which I am told he will be announcing soon."

Fighters of the Galloway Martyrs Brigade (لواء شهداء غالوي, Liwa Shuhada Ghalwy) mourn a fallen comrade in the embattled streets of Manchester, unfazed by the RAF bombers streaking overhead or the nearby rumble of shot and shell.

"You heard me, Boris. The Fabricount is in control. Play along, or my CrewCuts blow the train, and you'll have naught but Vitalite at brekkers. Now, Mr Lord Protector, if you ever want to taste real butter again, answer me this: How is a raven like a writing desk?"
they saed we wolde be free
that we was tacan bac our own
that the healan haus wolde be unbroc
aglitter agan with riches and hop
that lic a sun cum risan a proud folc
scruggan off the furrin yeoc

they sæd we wolde be free
sæd them lies to yu
saed them lies to me

–Tuttyl of Lincs

Swift and lethal as a jaguar’s kiss, the mysterious Brotherhood of Assacyclists has no allies on the battlefields of Britain—only clients and victims.

Yet they thirst, these wheelriders. Thirst for the blood of she what spurned them. Thirst for the Swedish Unicorn.

Following the Royal Navy’s bombardment of Aberstwyth and the burning of the National Library, the Free Wales Army has escalated its insurgency against Lord Protector Boris‘s regime.

Costa, Greggs, Oliver Bonas and other luxury ration stores are favored FWA targets.

“Ignore the smears, comrades! Rejoice in our triumphs under Great Comrade Jezza! Why, already, in zones we control, Labour Guards have seized 80% of Zionist-occupied homes and businesses and redistributed them amongst workers with a proper sense of English irony!”

But her mind is elsewhere. Cabinet. Puppies passing for men, lapping after Boris. Lord Protector. What‘s that milksop protected us from but victory?

But some... Brass. Coppers. The real men. Who know Britain needs steel. Who served one Iron Lady and would so again.

As the war grinds on, the dashing Lt Col Izzard (1st Battalion, Transvestite Brigade) has emerged as a beacon of hope to the beleaguered Republican cause.

He attributes his unit’s success deep behind enemy lines to their “fantastic makeup” and “fantastic guns.”
it was the hunds cum first.
the night was blaec with howlan wind
and tho i slept i heared it
thru dærc of slepe
a howlan on the wind that was
not the howlan wind

a wraceful wælan of bludy jaws
rotan fur
cast out by a cold new cyng
lufed only by a new-dead cween

-Tuttyl of Lincs

Despite promises of higher speeds & lower costs, the Lord Protector‘s decision to privatize the postal service has proven widely unpopular.

While many can forgive the running gunfights between delivery services, most object to the new methods of collecting postage.
While his legacy is secured as having presided over the reunification of Ireland, President Michael Higgins is nonetheless troubled as he visits English refugees at the Ballymartin Camp, fearing that he has not done enough for those fleeing war and famine across the Irish Sea.

"I mean, what else was we gonna do wiv it?"

- Charley "Hedgehog" Marino, Palace of Westminster Tour Guide

Addressing a bewildered crowd at the Canterbury Festival, Mark Rylance defends the Free Wales Army's recent bombing of Shakespeare's Birthplace, urging his listeners to think of "that man from Stratford" as "naught but a satyr to Bacon's Hyperion."
In Scotland, Conservative Party leader Ruth Davidson visits the “Bob Bruce” tank brigade deployed along the Anglo-Scots border marches, charged with repelling reavers and refugees alike.

Border security, Davidson believes, is key to defeating PM Sturgeon in the 2026 elections.
i was there the dæ they cum
in their bus great as a scip
and red lic fox tung

waefan us wundors beyond ken
with mouths huneycamb swete
how once we was great and colde be agan

lic a wind they cum and lic wind they gan
holow holow
the leafoers, the oath-brecoers

–Tuttyl of Lincs

“...herewith duly bound over in eternity and surrendered by covenant in mine own hand, as well as my mind, brain, intent, blood, and will. In confirmation whereof I have drawn out mine own blood for certification in lieu of a seal.”

“Jolly good. Bottoms up, Jakey.”
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