It was all kicking off in their magic garden. A once serene place inhabited by fairy tale characters had been taken over by the politicians disguising themselves as the much loved characters of the 70s hit the Magic Roundabout.
Elon Musk, played by Mr Rusty
Farage, played by Zebedee
Kemi Badenoch, played by Florence
Trump, played by Dougal
Sir Keir, played by Brian the Snail
Written by Chris Harris
Produced by A. Intelligence
It had been a tough day for Florence and Zebedee in the Magic Garden. Exhausted from the day’s chaos, they decided to hotfoot it down to their favourite pub, The Little Englander.
For Florence, this was a small act of rebellion. Her family and friends had always discouraged her from going there, warning that it was full of “rough people with rough ideas.” But lately, Florence found herself feeling more at home in the cozy chaos of The Little Englander. Perhaps it was the freedom it offered—a place where she didn’t have to be prim and proper or live up to everyone’s expectations and just be her normal horrible, impulsive and nutty self.
Zebedee, on the other hand, was more pensive as they made their way down the winding path. He used to love it at The Little Englander. Back in the day, everyone wanted to share a pint with Zebedee, the unofficial king of the pub. But things had soured recently. Zebedee had fallen out with Mr. Rusty, and the fallout had made things… awkward. Mr. Rusty, once his closest ally, had turned against him, and now Florence seemed to be replacing him as the pub’s star attraction. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Still, Zebedee wasn’t one to dwell on defeat for too long. Sure, at the moment Florence was more popular than him with Mr Rusty, but that didn’t bother him too much. In fact, it sparked an idea. “If she’s taking over my old circle,” he mused, “maybe I’ll steal all her friends. I’m smarter than her anyway.”
Meanwhile, back at the Magic Garden, things were growing increasingly bizarre. Nobody knew what had gotten into Mr. Rusty lately, but he was acting a bit bonkers. Ever since he’d become best mates with Dougal, his confidence had inflated to absurd levels. He swaggered around the garden, throwing his weight around like he was invincible.
The truth was, most of the garden’s inhabitants didn’t like Mr. Rusty much. But for now, they put up with him. Times were hard. The play school had run out of funding, and the nurse’s office was in a similar state of disrepair. Mr. Rusty, being both wealthy and an insufferable bighead, was more than happy to exploit the situation. He held the keys to the Magic Roundabout, and the local paper, The Podders, declared him the lynchpin holding everything together. But the customers knew better. To them, Mr. Rusty was nothing more than a loud, slightly deranged tool. Entertaining, sure—but mostly ridiculous.
As the night wore on, Florence became tipsy and sentimental, drifting off into a quiet reverie. “Maybe I could be a better leader than Liz Truss,” she thought to herself. The bar was set laughably low, after all. It was hard to imagine anyone being that inept. Still, Florence couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. Arrogance wasn’t exactly a rare trait in The Little Englander, and patience wasn’t her strong suit either. Anything was possible. A race to the bottom seemed a good idea. After all she and her supporters in the local council were already going collectively bonkers beginning to ingratiate themselves with Mr Rusty.
Zebedee, meanwhile, had his own struggles to contend with. Being a narcissist, rejection hit him hard. But he wasn’t one to wallow. He knew he was smarter than Florence—at least, he thought so. And if winning people over meant taking one step back to take two steps forward, he’d do it. After all, the Magic Garden was a strange place. Alliances shifted, fortunes turned, and in the end, it was all about playing the long game.
Dougal watched all this unravel from the other side of the Magic Garden. He had been minding his own business playing crazy golf, crazy game, crazy guy.
The Rights of Fans. 