I ONLY hope nobody invades this Christmas. Before we know it, we could be under foreign occupation, being forced to drive on the wrong side of the road and learning the words to a new national anthem.
As the goose-stepping forces of the Democratic People’s Republic of North Korea march down Whitehall and units reveal themselves in St George’s Square, where they have been masquerading as members of the State Circus on tour, we could rue the decision of the Ministry of Defence to give the British Army extra time off for the festive season.
This is in recognition, says the Ministry, of the vital support provided by the army during the Olympics and the Royal Jubilee.
What it means is that squaddies start their holidays today and won’t be back in barracks until January 7. Critics say it is a cost cutting exercise. Squaddies say whoopee.
But surely this leave the nation open to international danger and you never know with an ambitious country like North Korea which has just launched its first intercontinental ballistic missile. This is the nuclear state where nine million of its population of 24 million are in the military. With an army that big, they have to find something to do, so an invasion of mainland Britain might not be out of the question.
“Where shall we invade, oh Supreme Leader?”
“How about Britain? I enjoy a good curry and a pint of bitter, and I hear their army is on holiday.”
To be on the safe side, it might be as well to change your name to Kim. Just about anybody who matters in North Korea is called Kim and, to be honest, Kim Kilcommons has a bit of a ring to it.
Not that I would fancy singing The Patriotic Song every morning or worshipping the supreme leader. It'’ enough having George Osborne as Chancellor.
Before we go too far into the realms of fantasy, let me reassure those of an impressionable nature that an invasion by the Hermit Kingdom (that’s another name for it) may be possible but is unlikely.
But it makes you think. I mean, who would you prefer to be invaded by?
America is definitely out. They think we’re a theme park, as it is. And while McDonalds and Coca Cola are almost compulsory I can do without hand on heart national anthems, a culture as shallow as the shallow end of a very shallow paddling pool, and the world baseball series. World series? They’re the only people who play baseball.
The Germans tried invasion and failed and, to be honest, I don’t think they would fancy being lumbered with our double dip recession. The Italians might invite us to invade them, as long as the army was all female and liked to party, and the Spanish, Portuguese and Greeks are too poor to mount any type of a aggression.
In fact, only the French are reasonably placed, with the Channel Tunnel granting easy access. They could arrive in convoy beneath the sea, with thousands more crossing courtesy of P&O ferries on booze cruise trips and paratroopers being dropped deep inland disguised as onion sellers and the cast of ’Allo ’Allo looking for a pantomime.
Whisper this quietly, but I quite like the French. I have been a Francophile since my first visit to Paris in 1961 and I speak the language as fluently as Officer Crabtree. I think the Marseillaise is a brilliant national anthem, I love baguettes and I won’t have to change my name to Kim as Denis is the patron saint of France.
Bring it on.