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 dayās 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 ārough people with rough ideas.ā But lately, Florence found herself feeling more at home in the cozy chaos of The Little Englander. Perhaps it was the freedom it offeredāa place where she didnāt have to be prim and proper or live up to everyoneās 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 wasnāt one to dwell on defeat for too long. Sure, at the moment Florence was more popular than him with Mr Rusty, but that didnāt bother him too much. In fact, it sparked an idea. āIf sheās taking over my old circle,ā he mused, āmaybe Iāll steal all her friends. Iām smarter than her anyway.ā
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 heād 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 gardenās inhabitants didnāt 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 nurseās 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, sureābut mostly ridiculous.
As the night wore on, Florence became tipsy and sentimental, drifting off into a quiet reverie. āMaybe I could be a better leader than Liz Truss,ā she thought to herself. The bar was set laughably low, after all. It was hard to imagine anyone being that inept. Still, Florence couldnāt help but chuckle at the idea. Arrogance wasnāt exactly a rare trait in The Little Englander, and patience wasnāt 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 wasnāt one to wallow. He knew he was smarter than Florenceāat least, he thought so. And if winning people over meant taking one step back to take two steps forward, heād 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. 