Never before had the Sunday crowd at the Moaning Cow public house heard Mr. Angry speak with such patriotism. Decked in a Union Jack, and restricting himself to five pints of German lager, his dramatic statement stunned his followers.
“I, Mr. Nelson, Pugwash, Ahab Angry, hereby announce that I’ve spoken to the Foreign Secretary, Nadine Dorries, and I shall be commanding the fleet that will be sailing from Plymouth to recapture Gibraltar.”
“It’s a British Overseas Territory, you drunk” shouted the man playing the fruit machine.
“I am the Rock of Gibraltar sailing to its rescue.” He drank his second whiskey chaser.
“I shall evoke the spirit of Lady Thatcher when she commended the convoy which took back the Virgin Isles from the Peruvians. It is time to stand up for Britain which means me, Mr Wellington…”
“We’ve heard all that, you fool” said the man in the third row. “Are you going by EasyJet?”
“I have spoken to the Prime Minister, Samantha Cameron, and she backs me fully.”
“But Mr. Angry” interrupted Mrs. Angry as she checked her lottery numbers “under the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 Gibraltar was ceded to us in perpetuity. There were referendums in 1967 and 2002 and the people want to stay with us.”
“That’s why I shall be commanding the Royal Navy as we sail to their rescue. The 2.6 square miles represents Britain at its best.”
“You’re in charge of the ships?” exclaimed a man in the middle of the audience.
“I, Commander Angry, have secured agreement with the Foreign Office that I can command the two aircraft carriers…”
“Mr. Angry” cried Rita the bar maid. “The Foreign Office is on the phone. They had not realised that when you received your latest ASBO your passport was confiscated. The Spanish authorities are saying they won’t let you in…Mr. Angry…?”