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Flying the Flag (Economy Class)
What is Great Britain, really? Apart from a rain-soaked island where people queue out of politeness and apologize to furniture they've just walked into?Great Britain gave the world parliamentarism, the steam engine, and the unique ability to make a proper cup of tea during a national crisis. Lately, however, its main export seems to be political scandals so profoundly absurd that outside observers suspect the government is being secretly run by a deeply cynical sitcom writer.
Following the latest public relations catastrophe, affectionately dubbed "Pig-Gate 2.0", the Whitehall elite implements the radical "Smell Like the Electorate" protocol. Enter Sir Alistair Pence. He is Her Majesty's Foreign Secretary. A man whose bespoke suits predate the invention of the internet and whose accent is sharp enough to glass a man in a pub. To rescue the Empire's crumbling image, Sir Alistair must forgo the government transport and travel to a crucial strategic summit in Poland.
aboard a FlyCheap Boeing 737. For a mere fifteen-pound priority boarding fee, the Minister finds himself wedged into middle seat 14B. Squashed between a Polish champion-pigeon breeder and a teething toddler with a vendetta against silk ties, Sir Alistair begins the most harrowing diplomatic mission of his career. Things take a turn for the bureaucratic when the flight is hijacked by the most ideologically confused terror cell in civil aviation history, who, due to severe budget cuts, are armed only with neon-green plastic margarine knives.
Meanwhile, the British Treasury refuses to negotiate because it's calculated that building a sandstone monument to the Minister would be significantly cheaper than losing the exchange rate. When the aircraft executes a "traditional Irish landing" on nothing but fuel vapours right across a regional Polish highway, global geopolitics collides head-on with rural Eastern Europe. Welcome to Sompolno, a place where the smell of rapeseed fields blends with grilled sausage, the local mayor demands a seventeen-zloty admin fee from an atomic superpower for blocking traffic, and a US gangster in a Hawaiian shirt accidentally redefines the local vanilla ice cream market.
Can the New British Empire successfully conquer Eastern Europe if it lost its right shoe back at Luton Airport?
Following the latest public relations catastrophe, affectionately dubbed "Pig-Gate 2.0", the Whitehall elite implements the radical "Smell Like the Electorate" protocol. Enter Sir Alistair Pence. He is Her Majesty's Foreign Secretary. A man whose bespoke suits predate the invention of the internet and whose accent is sharp enough to glass a man in a pub. To rescue the Empire's crumbling image, Sir Alistair must forgo the government transport and travel to a crucial strategic summit in Poland.
aboard a FlyCheap Boeing 737. For a mere fifteen-pound priority boarding fee, the Minister finds himself wedged into middle seat 14B. Squashed between a Polish champion-pigeon breeder and a teething toddler with a vendetta against silk ties, Sir Alistair begins the most harrowing diplomatic mission of his career. Things take a turn for the bureaucratic when the flight is hijacked by the most ideologically confused terror cell in civil aviation history, who, due to severe budget cuts, are armed only with neon-green plastic margarine knives.
Meanwhile, the British Treasury refuses to negotiate because it's calculated that building a sandstone monument to the Minister would be significantly cheaper than losing the exchange rate. When the aircraft executes a "traditional Irish landing" on nothing but fuel vapours right across a regional Polish highway, global geopolitics collides head-on with rural Eastern Europe. Welcome to Sompolno, a place where the smell of rapeseed fields blends with grilled sausage, the local mayor demands a seventeen-zloty admin fee from an atomic superpower for blocking traffic, and a US gangster in a Hawaiian shirt accidentally redefines the local vanilla ice cream market.
Can the New British Empire successfully conquer Eastern Europe if it lost its right shoe back at Luton Airport?
