British "People"
In this zany and unusual article, Sean pictures the hypothetical of every British person suddenly disappearing and the beautiful and surprising outcome that follows.
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British people are gone
British people are gone
By Sean Glover
By Sean Glover
This just in: it’s the Black Plague 2 (Electric Boogaloo), and it’s coming for Great Britain's blood. If you live in the United Kingdom or have spent a great deal of your life there, I have bad news for you. In your area and your area alone, this deadly parasite is spreading throughout the entire nation and the UK will be decimated in a matter of days. If you’re British, you’re probably thinking, “Oh no! I’m bloody buggered!” but, do not fret. There is really a beautiful and positive outcome that shall come from this fantastical and zany event. I’ll tell you why.
First of all, let’s flashback a bit on our knowledge of British history. Obviously, the Black Plague Pt. 1 was not very cash money. A lot of people said, “Peace out” to this world and it sucked. Big time. National Geographic notes that, statistically, about 25 million people were killed by the plague in 1347, which amounts to about a third of Europe’s population at the time. Unfortunately, the Black Death’s neighbor was not so polite to the other two-thirds of our modern survivors. While too busy drinking their tea and eating their crumpets, everyone forgot what quarantining was, and when the deadly disease rippled through the country, many simply looked out their window and thoughtfully pondered, “Roight. What’s all this then?”
15th-century manuscript illustration of Moses spreading the plague of boils (Historica Graphica Collection/Heritage Images/Getty Images)
Boom. Now, they’re all gone. However, one question remains: where do we go from here? Well, now that we’re in the calm after the storm, let’s take a moment to reflect. What have we gained? What have we lost?
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With an aching heart, I hate to inform you that we have lost a great deal. I must admit, I’ll miss the grimy, stained, yellow buck teethed Brits that would quip, “Shagadelic, baby,” or the greasy, putrid bowl-shaped haircuts that would sing, “Hey Jude.” Sometimes, I can even feel the stab wounds a mad bloke would inflict upon me rather than the ones made by bullets here in America. Better yet, there are times I can see the Queen’s fashion statements dancing as visions in my eyes or watch her act without any political influence, despite how much some of her people may praise her. Even the dramatic, yet brief, history of British colonialism still sparks a steady flame in my head from time to time.
But soft, my languishing thoughts, for I must move on. I must wash away my memories of this society with a toothbrush and toothpaste, as I know my British neighbors never did. In the long run, I guess we never have to hear the word “innit” or “rubbish” anymore. We don’t have to hear shopping carts be referred to as “trolleys” anymore, either. No more double-decker buses. No more cloudy days, battered sausages, or mushy peas. Honestly, it’s almost ethereal. Calming. It’s like I’ve finally found inner peace. Despite my incessant grief, maybe this ending for the British race was for the best. Now that they’re gone, we have so much more room to blossom our world into something beautiful and healing.
Now kids: what have we learned today? Well I, for one, have finally realized that my life without British people doesn’t actually change very much, besides the fact that I’m quite happy now. But wait…hold the press. I just took my www.23andMe.com test this morning and the results are in.
(Image: Getty Images)
Oh no, it can’t be… I’m 97% British… I can’t believe it. My blood flows thanks to white-powdered wigs and violent colonialism. Everything I swore to destroy in my time of being is now what I’ve become. My reign of superiority over the British folk has come to an end. Wait, don’t click away. Please. We’re all a little bit British somewhere. Think about it. These cockney blokes had millions of kids back in the day. They quite literally interlaced their genetics with the rest of the world and infected us with this deteriorating illness. One of us is all of us, and we are all one. We’ll all be wiped away from this planet eventually.
Something I may add, for all of you with that concerned look in your eye, is that Harry Styles is in the U.S. right now. Although he is British, I would literally find any scapegoat to eternalize him. Andrew Garfield, too. I have no clue where he is right now, but he lived in the UK for an extended period of his life, and I know I’ll be exempting him from any mass extinction that comes to British “people.” Nonetheless, with the rest of the English citizens disappearing, my heart doesn’t weigh down my chest too much. Sorry, John Lennon, but when I imagine all the people, they are NOT living life in peace.
Thank you all for watching me tear apart the entire livelihood of each Britain enjoyer in this article, and make sure to stick around in June for my best (and sadly, final) one to ever grace The Scroll.
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