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TheAnonymooseTmas

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Storm Brewing


December 27th, 2015

It had been a full week since the “incident” at the Earl’s Ulfstead estate. Things finally seemed to be calming down for two reasons; Christmastide had now came and went, and plus, after the chaos of the resistance movement, which had now been officially brought to an end, as after significant interrogation, the First Minister’s cronies were able to find out where the Resistance had been meeting, and upon discovery, the Sodor Metropolitan Police were dispatched to confiscate all illegal contraband and burn the rickety old building down.


The First Minister, now truly beginning to understand the responsibility of a politician, was feeling quite tired one evening, as he talked to his butler, Alderman. This evening had been the long-awaited first snow of the season, which came with violent wind and blizzard conditions.


“Good heavens Alderman, are you sure these windows are able to withstand these winds?”


“Certainly, sir.”


“Would you mind fetching me some cocoa, at once? Oh, and my nightgown?”


“Of course, sir.”


[Alderman exits, and returns 3 minutes thereafter].


“Thank you, Alderman.”


[Alderman nods, and exits once again.]


[the Telephone rings.]


“Sir, your telephone is ringing.”


“Yes, I’ve got it. Hello?”


“Is this Mr. Minister?”


“Yes, and who might this be?”

“It is Mr. Cameron.”


“Oh! David! You caught me off guard. How have you been?”


“Not very well actually. You know how stressful the Christmas shopping season can be. Not to mention the chaos of politics, which I am sure you now know of.”


Before he could reply, he continued.


“Actually, I am quite certain you know, considering the events of the last week.”


“Ah, yes,” Charles said, nervously.


“I would also like to apologize for my tardiness in addressing this subject, as I have been quite busy with the Christmas festivities and all.”


“Certainly, as was I. And a Merry Christmas to you as well.”


“Thank you. Now, while I was gone on holiday with my wife in Salamanca, I was watching BBC from my phone, when I caught wind of what happened in Knapford last week. At first I was quite confused, considering the circumstances, but eventually, after hearing of repeated conflict on your island, I became quite concerned.”


“And understandably so-”


“Allow me to finish. Now then, I would like to say something, and let me be clear; I am well aware of your attitude. I know your type, and I have heard from several persons about you before. Politics is not a joke, Charles, and if you cannot handle it, I shall see to it what must be done is done. If I must dismantle the sub-parliamentary system, I will.”


“Oh David, don’t be such a stick in the mud. You know full well, then, certainly, of my potential and capability if you truly know who I am. In fact, I do sympathize with your situation. How about we settle all this over some tea, yes? Come visit my estate this Thursday for a New Year’s Eve gathering, yes? Ring in the new year?


“Very well. I shall have it arranged. Until then, don’t burn down the entire island, yes?”


“Don’t make me laugh too hard old chap!”


December 31st, 2015


A light snow painted the island that Thursday evening, and the road to the estate was covered with a dusting of snow as the First Minister’s guests and their companions arrived. Among the guests were the Earl Richard Robert of Norramby, ex-Director Sir Stephen Hatt, Director of NWR Communications and Technology Sir Richard Hatt, Director Lady Emily Hatt, the Duke and Duchess of Boxford, and of course, Prime Minister David Cameron.


“A toast! To a new year of Sudrian glory!” cried Charles. Champagne, wine, various hors d'oeuvres, bread, as well as a traditional Sudrian dish, mutton, was served for all guests to enjoy. The Earl, in typical fashion, refused to eat any of the expensive dishes, but rather focused on the alcohol, so for all intents and purposes, he was incapable of proper debate.


Charles, ever the diplomat and people’s man he was, engaged in open, comedic, and careless debate with his friends and his noble compatriots, all of which was observed intently by Mr. Cameron.


However, a strange stalemate was in progress between the most important guests at the right side of the table, being the Ministers.


“I spoke to the Director of Police on my way here, Charles.”


“Oh. What did he say?”


“He said it was directed poorly by the administration, and that there was nothing much they could do based on your instruction.”


The First Minister gulped.


“I would like to talk in private with you after dinner.”


“Certainly.”


The Party ended anxiously for the young Charles, who scurried nervously into a private room, where Mr. Cameron was waiting.


“I am not angry about what happened, Charles, as it was rectified…  but rather, what could have happened. Look at the damage done, Charles. What if it was terrorism, not teenagers? I apologize for my bluntness, to you Charles, as I sympathize with you, but I cannot risk your incompetence in my nation. I am afraid that I shall have to do away with the system.”


The Minister, as hasty as his decision was, made up his mind, and remained mostly quiet and reclusive that evening.


By party’s end, the guests, unknowing, unconcerned, and a bit tipsy, all were escorted home by their chauffeurs, the Earl nearly needing to take the ambulance home, after screaming “Auld Lang Syne” after leaving the estate and nearly collapsing on the front lawn.  


However, the next day would be the beginning of the end for our most misfortunate Mr. Charles Hatt.



New Year’s Day, January 1st 2016


The New Year was not rung in quite the way most wished it would have been. It was bitter cold, and quite windy, as the gusts threw the snow across road, rail, and river, which caused considerable confusion and delay. However, this would only be the beginning of it.


Charles woke up in pain. Not only of his predicament, but also, was a bit hungover, in earnest.


“Crikey. I had a few too many shots of Champagne last night, Alderman.”


“I fear for your liver, sir. However, I suggest taking a hot water bottle for your headache.”


“You are a darling, Alderman.”


However, this would be only the beginning of his pain. Charles turned on the television set in his room to find the First Minister having a speech.


“Good morning, citizens of Britain. I bid you good day, and a Happy New Year, to all of those who have actually woken up. Today is a dawn of a new year in these fair isles, and I am of the utmost optimism of the future of our healthcare system, immigration policy, and economic growth. We have a healthy Conservative majority in parliament, and we have birthed a newborn strength this year. However, this year, there are many challenges we must tackle. Firstly, is the issue of the European Union. There is considerable uncertainty and debate circling among the nation’s elites about the welfare of our commonwealth as a part of the European Union after the emergence of the Syrian Refugee Crisis. We must ensure that our nation is safe from the evils of radical Islam, and furthermore, that our nation, and the rest of NATO can prosper in peace among the world circles, especially concerning the expansionism of Russia in the East. Furthermore, there is also domestic turmoil that we must address. It was recently brought to my attention the rebellious acts of supporters of the opposition party on Sodor. From throwing coffee into the sea, to burning down warehouses and even attempting to assassinate the First Minister, it is frightfully clear to me that something must be done on Sodor. With that being said, I am officially beginning work to deconstruct the devolved parliament of Sodor. It pains me to see my promise go to fateful destruction, however, it is for the benefit of the people and economy of Sodor, and this nation. On that grave note, I would, however, like to stress the fervent optimism and faith in our country, our values, and our security this year. To all of yours, and to all of Britain, Happy New Year.”


“Blast him! Alderman! Assemble the guard, and hand me my greatcoat and bicorne, at once!”


“Very well, sir.”


With that, the First Minister haphazardly put on his suit, greatcoat, and departed for the parliamentary square in Suddery, roughly a fifteen minute train ride from his Brendam estate. Many officials were there, all in considerable disorder, milling and pacing about the square and gardens, considering the situation at hand.


Charles, escorted by his Provincial Horse Guard, leapt off his horse and cried for order and for those present to lend an ear.


“Hark you fair constituents, and hear what I have to say. Today is a dark day for this fair town square, and I am not pleased at today developments. However, I shall be clear, and you all shall listen. We, the rightful claimants of the Sudrian government, shall not sway, nor tremble, in the face of adversaries. While we do not wish for war, we must stand steadfast and not fear! Assemble inside, where we will not freeze alive, and we shall determine what to do in this crisis.”


News spread like wildfire throughout the island of the news. Uncertainty of the future of the island plagued stations, city streets, and of course, the parliament square. However, the First Minister received much flak for his statements from the rest of the parliamentary members from across the island.


“Charles, we must not be so rebellious! Westminster shall surely have our heads mounted if we choose to ignore their demands.”


“Hear, hear! I fear we must stand down, Charles, lest we aggravate the mighty John Bull.”


“I hear your cries, fair compatriots”, he said, “But listen, we got into this job didn’t we? Let’s just ride it out and see what happens. What could possibly go wrong? I mean maybe he’ll just forget about it right?”


“Sir, a telegram from the Prime Minister,” Alderman poked.


“Ah, thank you.”


“Dear First Minister Hatt,

We have discussed the motives of the rebels, the execution of police safety, and your capability as a politician. I am uncertain as to whether you watched my speech this morning, however I must regret to inform you that I have passed legislation to depose the devolved government you lead. The system of government in place will be restored, and your compatriots can remain in the legislative building. Your status as an official will be determined at a later date. I am en route to the island to clear things up momentarily, and I am accompanied by a military force, if there is any resistance. I advise that you must take careful political action or we will see to it that it is taken care of ourselves.


Regards,

Prime Minister Cameron



“Dear God. Alderman, read this.”


“Certainly sir.”


“Oh, good heavens. Should I inform the chamber?”


“Yes, and please give them the telegram. I shall return to my quarters to contemplate today’s events.”


“Of course.”



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Burning Down the House

“I hold it that a little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing.”

Thomas Jefferson

December 20th, 2015


    Now, through all this turmoil with the radicals, one would be curious as to whether or not the Earl himself had any association with the group.


    The First Minister too had never liked the eccentric man, who had often visited him and his father as a young boy. Determined to reveal who was trying to undermine his administration, he and a company of his Provincial Horse Guards attended to Ulfstead Castle late one evening.


    Now before I recall their conversation, I must give you a bit of insight to the history of Ulfstead Castle.


“Norse Period” Kingdom of Dublin and the Isles, 1070 - 1099

The Ulfstead Castle was a large fortification and royal residence constructed in 1070, and a good thing too. It was constructed by the troops of Danish nobleman Earl Ulf, who was a brother-in-law of the Danish King “Canute the Great”, and relative of recently reinstated Sudrian King Godred Crovan. It was the many sieges the castle would weather that set it as the staple fort on Sudria for aeons. Its pinnacle sieges were against the Kingdom of Alba in the 1070s during the reign of Godred Crovan, in which all of the sporadic sieges against it failed.


“Resistance Period” Kingdom of Suðreyjar 1099 - 1404

As you will soon see, the Sudrian people are a very unique people, not just in placement, but also in culture and ethnic makeup. Descendent of Gaelic Irish, Scots, and Norse invaders, the Sudrian people have always felt they should work alone. Or at least the early ones did. Upon Godred Crovan’s 1095 death, his infant son Olaf was designated King of the independent Suðreyjar (Sodor), where they would spend the next 160 years.


During this period however, the kingdom of Mann and the Isles attempted retaking the island several times, during all of which the castle held fast.


In 1263, tragedy struck when both the Sudrian King Andreas and Prince Peter were killed in the Battle of Largs, aiding their Norwegian cousins in warring the Scots, who wanted to take the Isles, including Sudria.


The Sudrians decided to end the succession crisis by electing a Regent, Sir Harold Marown, a Manx, in 1267. Too scrupulous to claim the crown, he, in a most traitorous fashion considering the recent events, sold possession of the island to Alexander III of Scotland that year, and he became first in a line of Regents that would be elected to rule Sodor as a fief of Scotland until its annexation by Edward III of England in 1333, whom gave possession to William de Montacute. The Island changed hands again in 1383 when de Montacute sold the island to the next King of Mann, William le Scrope. Unfortunately, this did not last long, as Henry IV had le Scrope beheaded in 1399, and the last Sudrian Regent, Sir Arnold de Normanby, gave possession to the Earl Henry Percy. However, together with Prince Owain Glyndwr and the Earl Mortimer of March, they staged a rebellion against English King Henry IV and attempted to assert direct control over the island.


    Ironically however, the Sudrians too would have none of these rebels, and attempted to repel them from the island, and so too did King Henry aid the Sudrians in doing so. After they successfully repelled the rebels from the island, King Henry IV agreed to accept the Sudrians into the Kingdom of England as a protectorate, restoring Arnold de Normanby to his new permanent title of Earl of Sodor and House Normanby, in joint governance with the Abbot of Cronk.


“Earldom under the Crown of England” 1404 - 2016


In later years, the Castle would serve as a garrison for Sudrian Royalists during the English Civil War, and the Castle’s appropriate positioning made it so that the “Roundheads” were never able to take the castle.


    Finally in 1707, the Acts of Union were signed, making England and Scotland into the United Kingdom. Shortly thereafter in 1715, “the Old Pretender” James Francis Edward, Prince of Wales, staged a rebellion against the Hanoverian dynasty with support of the French, Scots, Irish, and Sudrians, most of whom backed him for political or religious purposes. Nonetheless, once the rebellion had finally been squelched, Earl Trafford “the Treasonous” of Normanby was tried for treason and loyalty to the Jacobites. The House of Lords ruled Trafford guilty of treason against the King and ordered him hanged. With this, the Earldom of the House of Normanby of antiquity was officially extinguished by attainder and Sudria became subject to the count of Lancaster and became land of the Duchy of Lancaster.


    The next 148 years would be of integration. During this time, Sodor became an official part of the county of Lancaster, and with it became a long period of Anglicization. Note also that during this time, the illegitimate son of Trafford, Theobald, grew to marry and continue the dynasty of the House of Normanby, but instead lived in exile on the so called “Isle of Normanby” that lied north of the island of Sodor.


    Many generations of nobles lived there, however, the time would come for the Earldom to come back into the spotlight. John Arnold “J.A.” Normanby (b. 1822) was from a young age the benefactor of the family wealth and fortune. He became the sponsor of many charitable organizations for the wellbeing of children, and was also a philanthropist. Later in his life he was also a sponsor of the Mid-Sodor Railway (MSR), purchasing their first engine, whom was named “Duke” in his honor.


    During J.A. Normanby’s life, he decided to move to the town of Normanby-on-sea and sell the decaying estate at Ulfstead to the island’s historical society. It was from the abandoned Norman settlement on the town’s cliffs that he renewed a new estate and castle there, and he began the reorganization of the royal family and the estate at Normanby. He decided to rename the royal house, and thus his own name, from Normanby to the Anglicized “Norramby”, and after becoming mayor in 1890, the town of Norramby as well, and he changed their royal coat of arms.


    It was all this, combined with popular support, that Queen Victoria decided to officially reestablish the House of Norramby into the official English peerage, and J.A. Norramby would come to be the first Earl of the House Norramby. His great-grandson, Robert Charles Norramby, was slain on the North African front in WWII, which left the house to his son, Richard Robert Norramby, who is the current reigning Earl of the House. During his life, he attempted several times to regain political power on the island, and also purchased Ulfstead Castle from the now “Sodor Island Trust”, getting a discount by way of threatening to take the estate by force.


    Nonetheless, the castle at Ulfstead, now refurbished now serves as the Earl of Norramby’s estate and museum, rather, tourist trap.


Now then, back to the story.


The First Minister’s horse guards came to a halt outside the grand stairway to the castle entrance. The First Minister in his greatcoat and nightgown, gave a hearty knock on the great castle door. The Earl’s butler came to answer. “Good evening, Mr. Minister,” he said. “How may I help you.” “I wish to speak with the Earl at once.” “Very well.”. It was a good few minutes before the butler returned, stating simply, “The Earl is currently relaxing in his room before his slumber. He requests not to be bothered.”


“In the name of the First Ministry of Sodor I demand I be let in.”

“I am afraid sir, that on behalf of my patron I cannot let you in.”


It was then that he slapped the butler square in the cheek. With an annoyed huff he walked away leaving the door open for the First Minister and his companions. The Castle was a maze inside. There were many stairways, doors, and corridors leading to completely different sections of the castle. However in the dark and chilly night the First Minister could hear the white noise of a television set and the boisterous laughs of an old man, who most certainly was the Earl. He followed the noise that became greater and greater until finally he found the Earl’s personal quarters. He gave a firm bang at the door. Startled, the Earl rose and swung open the door.


“What are you doing here Charlie?”


“I have reason to believe that you, Mr. Richard Robert of Norramby, have been funding or supporting the revolutionaries that struck at Tidmouth Harbour in the last week.”


“What!?” That is preposterous and you know it!”


“Preposterous or not, we have a warrant to search the premises for evidence of your collusion.”


“This is undignified. I demand you leave at once!”


At first he began to block them, but after the First Minister pushed him aside they performed a slipshod search, looking for documents, letters, or just about anything they could pillage to make the Earl look guilty. After a few minutes, the minister finally gave up and dusted off his gown.


“Very well. Seeing as there is no incriminating evidence I shall clear your name from suspicion.”


“You see? Why didn’t you listen to me you blubbering fool!”


“Quiet!”


Finally, the Earl began to escort his guests to the exit.


“I ought to you have you all court martialed! Horrid hooligans! Who even elected you!”


“Bah.” the tired minister said, as he grabbed his greatcoat and cap.


However, it was at this moment a large explosion could be heard. “Gadzooks! What was that?”


Do you recall those idiosyncratic guards mentioned earlier? Well it so happens the First Minister’s escort was unfortunate enough to have them on board as well, particularly when the unexpected would happen.


(Earlier, while the Minister was inside)

{Snoring can be heard}. “Oi, Geoff!” “Huh? What?” Barry took the musket out from under his chin and Geoff tumbled to the ground. “Wake up, you clumsy twit! We are on guard duty!” “My apologies good mister Barry! Back to work it is.”


{Meanwhile, in the woods surrounding the estate…} We finally made it boys. Now is our time. Our works of outrage have not stirred the public, so we must do the work ourselves. We must dispose of the First Minister personally!” said the new ringleader of the radical Earl supporters, whom happened to be named Arron. He and a group of his compatriot radicals had laid a trail of gunpowder across the entrance to the estate where the First Minister’s guards were on duty, and somehow did not notice the inconspicuous trial of black-powder scattered about them.


Arron set the trail of powder alight with a match, and soon a trail of explosions knocked the guards off their feet.


“Now!” the supporters than ran as fast as their feet could carry them into the back of the Castle, to where they hoped they would get in through the Museum keepers’ entrance. “Fire at will lads!” The guards volleyed at the perpetrators, but they were too far into the thickets of the forest for them to get a clear shot of them.


They collectively rammed into the back entrance, breaking down the door, shocking the Earl’s Butler, who nearly spilt his tea in shock.


“I say!” They pointed their muskets at him.


”Tell us where the Earl is now!”


“I refuse!”


“I’m warning you!” he aimed.


“Oh, heavenly father have mercy!” “He is probably upstairs in his room, I know not.”


“And get us some bloody hot cocoa while you’re at it, yea?”


“Certainly good chaps.”


They all shuffled into the Castle’s foyer, busting through another door in the process, alarming the Earl and his guest. “Guards!” The Earl boomed.


Soon his guards came running from their barracks in the rear of the Estate and presented at the protestors. “Drop your weapons now!”


“Never!” cried the leader.


“Company present!” the Earl’s captain of the guard yelled.

“Fire at us you cowards!”


“Make ready! Aim!”


“Fine! Fine! Don’t shoot!” Arron winced.


“Drop the weapons and get on the ground now!”


The protesters dropped their illegal arms and put their hands in the air. The First Minister, outraged, proceeded to slap each and every one of the filthy protesters, after they were handcuffed, of course.


“You almost had me killed you buffoons! I shall send you all to prison! Your families will pay your debts!”


“Bring them to the torture chamber, guards!” the Earl yelled.


“The what!?” the First Minister replied.


“Erm, to the “cellar”, good sirs.”


The guards escorted them downstairs.


“It seems my judgment may have been wrong about you Mr. Earl. I would like to apologize for illegally searching your Estate.”


“Oh-ho, don’t worry about it Charlie! All's well that ends well! However, I certainly hope you will be paying for those broken medieval-replica doors, the destruction of my garden in the front, and also purchase me a full set of Seasons 1-3 of Aqua Teen Hunger Force that I missed on the television set during our visit.”


“Well then.”


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Fatal Blowback

“When are people going to learn… Democracy doesn’t work!”

Homer Simpson


December 10th, 2015


Winds blew harshly on that crisp morning, as Baron Charles Nicholas Hatt stirred his cup of afternoon tea. “This is the life!” he cried to no one in particular. His butler strode in shortly thereafter. “Alderman,” he sighed, “I have seen it all and done it all, in my short life.” His butler rolled his eyes, taking all the used tablecloths from the closet to wash. “Ziplining, discovering long lost locomotives, becoming the governor of my own island, whatever next!” he cried, ironic as it will seem.


While this is not to take away from the legitimacy or lack thereof of Mr. Hatt, it is this attitude of decadence that I felt was necessary to understand the position of Mr. Hatt before the time of the Sudrian Revolutions.


Needless to say, winter had come to the Island of Sodor, and despite there being little to no snow, the frigid air and icy waters gave an atmosphere of a barren tundra. However, as we all know, even in winter there is an ever present group of people on the island who remain rebellious and complaining; this group being of course, young boys. One day, a group of politically active and particularly hormonal boys decided to come together for some brunch at M.C. Bunn to get away from the cold.


“How proper rigged that election was,” mentioned one. “Tories will never let us have our voices heard…” One of the boys looked up on a wall and noticed a portrait of Boston Harbor in the revolutionary days. “If we didn’t have our heads up our backside, we’d stand up and do sumfin’ about it all!” one cried. “Hear, hear!” It was then the group of boys decided to devise a devious plan to get their “voices heard”, which in rebel-speak, means to get some attention. One of the boys’ fathers happened to be a workman at the dock, so he somehow found out that there was a large shipment of Colombian coffee that came to Tidmouth Harbour the night previous. They made a rendezvous point at the harbour gates, where they split up from there to try and find a way in. One found a protruding hole in a fence, so they decided to go in that way. The leader of the group scanned the place for cameras, guards, and looked for a disguise. He came back 5 minutes later bearing a bunch of strange plastic bags.


“What’s all this then?” one asked. “Take a look here lads,” he said, opening the bags. “I found an open container, worked some magic, and found a couple of perfect disguises for us.” He unfolded the clothes to show what he had found. The group’s faces grew from intrigued to annoyed. “You must be joking.” “Relax, it’s good enough for now.” They put on the disguises, and went in from there without complaining.


     Luckily for them, the dockyard was a maze of shipping containers hauled in from across the world, and the harbour was not guarded much at all, so they were able to walk around with the confidence of knowing they would not be caught. They made their way to the crates from Latin America, where they found the crate of coffee. “Jackpot!” he cried, and they gathered the crowbars, swiss knives, and any other blunt object they stole from their parents to open the crate. Shockingly, the workmen were too busy sipping hot cocoa and working machinery to hear the incredible racket they made.


    After some struggle, and the heavier boy of the bunch almost breaking his back, they opened the container and found, in large stamped crates, several tons of imported coffee. “The motherload…” Together, they began lifting the crates of coffee out of the containers, and lugging them to the edge of the dock, where they then threw the crates of coffee into the Sudrian Sea. By the time all was said and done, they had thrown a total of one ton of coffee into the harbor.


    Exhausted, they decided they had got their point across, and they made a run for it, going out the front gate miraculously unnoticed to get back home.


Next day, the first minister had awoken late from a night of plentiful and restful sleep. Taking off his nightgown and cap, he changed into his business suit and went into his office. His butler then made his way into the office, casually placing the morning paper on his desk as he did every other day, but this time, the title of the front page was in bold lettering, and read “THE POPULACE STRIKES BACK - TIDMOUTH HARBOUR VANDALIZED.” The first minister now concerned, continued to read the article, which read:


“After a nail biting election this past Sodor Day, the unrepresented populace has finally struck. Yesterday at approximately noon, a group of young, radical, Earl supporters broke into Tidmouth Harbour, broke into several containers and threw what is estimated to be several hundred kilograms of coffee into Knapford Harbour. Several spectators of the harbor reported crates floating in the bay, and after further investigation it has been revealed the group of supporters were disguised as nuns.”


Scratching his head, the First Minister ordered his butler to send for a local network to televise his response and message to the public.


“Good day, my fellow Sudrians, and I would like to address the quite peculiar incident that occurred last night at Tidmouth Harbour. I would first like to thank all of the investigators involved who help reveal who the perpetrators were. Next, I would like to affirm to all our citizens, that the police, our police, have matters under control, and there is no cause for alarm. Finally, I would like to say that I understand several people are doubtful, or perhaps critical of my ability to be a politician. However, I assure all Sudrian people that I will work on your behalf, and I will not stop until the needs of the people have been met.”


The tape stopped, and the weary minister, annoyed, ordered for some tea and departed for the morning parliament session.


Unfortunately for our Mr. Minister, people are as they are, and often times will feel obligated to continue their actions if they are not put back in line for it.


A few days had passed and the boys had somehow avoided interrogation, most likely because they had all lied to their parents. They gathered once again at a local coffee shop along the railway line.


The topic of vandalization came up again in their ongoing chat, and there quickly came a wave of collusion.


“It seems we haven’t got our point across to the people. The commonwealth as we know it is in a downward spiral. If the people’s voice cannot be heard, tyranny has risen again.” “Hear, hear!” They cried in agreement. “We must prove that we are serious, that what we think matters.” “Yeah!” They cried.


For purpose of the story, I shall not tell you their plan, and will cut to the part of the proceedings that mattered.


That evening, the ring leader and his compatriot came to the harbour. They crept to a nearby alleyway silently, listening intently to what was going on. The harbour guard, who had been posted to the railway yard after the “Knapford Coffee Party” incident, was anxiously waiting for the midnight shunter to arrive to sort the newly arrived containers for the goods trains of the next day. He had began to drift to an uneasy rest when he heard a the “clickity-clack” of an incoming diesel. He woke with a start, seeing the green diesel approach. Its driver jumped out of the cab to talk to the guard. “Just me and old Iris here for the containers. “Righty-oh.” The guardsman gave a knock on the warehouse door, and within minutes, the crane operator began to lift the containers onto Iris’ flatbeds. “If only they would hurry up. My starter will be in horrid shape new morrow if I don’t get into my warm shed.” The workmen did so, and within five cold minutes, Iris and her containers were back to the yard.


“Cor, blimey!” The leader cried. “Finally they’re gone, now let’s get a move on.” Their plans were set into motion, and soon the aroma of burnt wood could be smelled throughout the harbour. The manager inside the warehouse had been drinking hot cocoa and catching up on the news he had missed while he was busy managing the yard. “In other news, last week’s vandalization of the docks was reprimanded by First Minister Hatt and several police officials…” He stopped listening briefly when he began smelling the burning wood. “What’s cooking?” He asked to his dozing assistant, who woke also to the smell. His assistant turned around, to find part of the wooden warehouse had been set alight. “Good gravy!” He yelped. “The joint’s on fire!” They lept out of their chairs, set the alarm, and bolted out the door. Soon the old warehouse, which had been built many years ago, was engulfed in flames. The fire brigade came at last at two hours past midnight, they contained the fire before it could get any worse. All but the building’s foundation remained.


The First Minister received word the next morning and once again sent a public address to the people.


“This breach of commercial security is the last straw. As First Minister of the island, I shall ensure public safety any way that I can, and as such, due to the lack of local security or the competence of local police, I hereby declare martial law on the Tidmouth Harbour radius. This political division has caused harm to our products and our economy, and I shall have none of it.” The First Minister sternly and ominously closed the address there.


The newfound stability of autonomy the Sudrian people received from their new government was lost, and there was widespread uncertainty of the future of the system.


Parents too began cracking down on the behavior of their children, much to the dismay of the 99% of goodwilling Sudrian children.


However, the “organization” of militant Earl supporters somehow became known to the likes of other local royalists and as such their following began to grow. They even founded their own “campaign headquarters” out of an abandoned building along the Ffarquhar Branchline, in which they recruited new members and stored their propaganda and supplies. They planned another attack on the harbour that week, this time a raid of the expensive foreign goods coming that week. “Our force has grown in strength, and soon the rightful throne to this island shall belong to the people, and our noble Earl!” They cheered at the leader’s remarks, and soon went down to business.


This time they decided to strike in the early morning, just after dawn. The guards were quite tired, and the guards came down to a younger gentleman and an older one. Before long, the younger one began to hear the older one snoozing. “Oi, Geoff! Wake up you blubbering coot!” “Oh, oh! Sorry Barry, it’s just been a long night.” Soon, the soldiers began to hear the shuffling jeans of the perpetrators and the sounds of their wire cutters on the fence. “Here they come,” they said, preparing to present their rifles, which of course, were only loaded with blanks.


What? Did you think the Sudrian forces use violence against their people? Heavens no.


The radicals decided from there to split up. One went through the aisle of containers filled with ores and metals, one through the clothing and fabrics, and another through the spices.


Eventually, the older soldier came across one of the boys. “I see ‘im, Barry!” “Then stay quiet and stay down!”


“Oi! You!” He cried. The boy he came across, who so happened to be the most skittish of the group, was shocked and quickly ran away before anyone could catch him. Barry soon came across the other boy, and presented his weapon.


“Get down and drop your weapons before I shoot!” He cried. “The boy was alarmed, but instead of fleeing, he decided to run further into the container yard. Geoff, the old soldier, then walked out into the center of the alley and presented his weapon and fired.


However, as soon as he fired, the boy dropped to the ground, and yelped with “pain”.


“Geoff you bumbling idiot!” Barry said. “Why didn’t you load your gun with blanks!”


“I swear I did! I swear!”


One of the outsiders heard the raucous, and called for the authorities. The other remaining boys quickly ran away before they would get noticed.


The Sodor Metropolitan Police quickly searched and cleared the area of all resistance and the paramedics came with haste. They took him by ambulance to the hospital, but the soldiers remained confused about what really happened.


The paramedics soon revealed that the boy had not really been shot at all, and that he was only bluffing. The parents of all the boys involved and the perpetrator were severely fined, and the leader was even given a short term of jail time.


Thankfully, the noble locals of Sudria had prevailed, and soon all was back to its functional self on the island; but still, the people remained shaken by the acts of the previous nights.


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Foreword

Many folks will tell you they claim know everything there is to know about the Island of Sodor. It is indeed a small island, and one which there is not much to know about on the surface. Its land is much like any other British land, with beautiful farms and orchards and a quaint little railway.


But you, dear reader, know this is but only the surface. Indeed, the Sudrian people have a history of their own, quite different than the English, one closer to that of their Manx brothers. While there is not enough time to go through the immense and colorful history of Sodor, it should be known that when it comes to our dear Sudria, there is nothing quite like it... At all.


Footnote: Not all of the content within these stories will be 100% Politically correct; If you may become particularly sensitive to religion, politics or satire, I suggest you turn away now;


These stories are meant to be satirical, expressive, and moreover entertaining and canon to how I think Sodor would be like if it were a real island. With that being said, if you are a knowledgeable and open-minded being, have a seat, grab some foodstuffs, and enjoy the story!


Election Day(s)

“Politicians and diapers must be changed often, and for the same reason.”  

Samuel “Mark Twain” Clemens


February 2015

It was a windy winter afternoon on the Island of Sodor. Among the people, there was some excitement. The Prime Minister, the esteemed Mr. David Cameron, was coming to Knapford for a campaign speech. Not everyone on the island was a political enthusiast, but nonetheless, it was days like this that all the villages and towns came out to the town square to see the special visitor.


It was approximately three in the afternoon when Gordon’s teatime express arrived at Knapford and the Prime Minister and his personal guards made their way to the town square.

The stage was set, and the performer now began his act.


    “To all the people of our noble Sudria, I bid you good day and good tidings,” he began. “As we all know, the time for elections has come once more, and I would like to thank the Sudrian people for helping me get elected back in 2010.” The audience gave some applause. “I would like to announce to you all, or at least to those of you who do not know, that I will be running again for this year’s general election.” More applause followed. “However, my colleagues in the Sudrian parliament constituencies have brought to attention that they believe Sodor must have more autonomy in the government, and I agree. There is no place quite like our noble Sodor, and I, for one, believe that our union must be flexible to survive. As such, I would like to announce that if you, the Sudrian people, elect my party by majority in this year’s general election I will grant you a sub-parliamentary system in Suddery.” The people cheered! “The time has come for the Sudrian people to have their voice, and with me, that voice shall be heard!”


    The townsfolk gave three cheers for the Prime Minister, and just as soon as he had started his speech was he waving to his supporters and making his way through the crowd to make it to the station on route to the next campaign stop.


May 2015

    The Prime Minister’s visit renewed a sense of hustle, bustle, and morale in the Sudrian people, feeling finally noticed the by national government. The fateful day, the seventh of May, finally came and the Sudrian people flocked to schools and courthouses to tally up their ballots. By night’s end, news networks nationwide revealed the news; victory for David Cameron.


    The news came with Sudrian glee, and what was promised came into fruition. Within a few months, the Prime Minister initiated plans for a sub-parliament building to be constructed in Suddery before winter that, would house the new “First Minister” of Sodor, in charge of Sudrian affairs in parliament and local administration. However, since there were multiple representatives for Sodor in parliament already, it was decided another election would be held that November on Sodor Day to decide who would become the island’s first First Minister.


[hr]

[Warning: Satire incoming!]


    Before I begin describing the tense elections, let me give you a general idea of our candidates for that election, the awful palette it was.


    Representing the discount conservatives known as the Sudrian Unionist Party, was arguably the most capable chap out of the bunch, Sir Charles Nicholas Hatt. A member of the popular Hatt clan, the young baronet is a chip off the old block. A lifelong enthusiast, thrillseeker, and an insatiable debater, he was popular among the political pundits on the island, and backed by haughty landowners all across the island, and it seemed almost inevitable that he would slither his way into parliament.


    On the other hand lied the other choice, the lovely Sir Robert Norramby,  Earl of the House of Norramby, which had become more of a ceremonial title than anything as of late, had, in his intoxication, decided to try and usurp those dastardly Britons again by creating his own party and attempting to plot a coup to restore his rightful noble title of Duke of Sodor. As outlandish as it is, the Earl, the old coot he is, has always been popular among the youthful laborers, workmen, and rural citizens across the island, and indeed, his princely dreams did not seem too unreasonable.


    Now then, please allow me to slander my way through explaining the ludicrous third-party candidates, those who seemed to fail their campaigns simply by running.


    Firstly was the aloof Mr. Claiborne Pell and his greasy co-candidate Norman Spencer. You may not know the names, probably because almost no one on Sodor does, with all due respect. After his earlier campaign to become governor of the United States state of Rhode Island fell to female democrat Gina Raimondo, arguably a worse candidate than him, Mr. Pell went into a fit of rage, and decided to pack his bags with his lovely wife to the isolated island of Sodor, where he might find solace and peace of mind. It was there that he came into contact with believe it or not, ex-North Western Railway executive Norman Spencer, who had been in hiding from the public eye. After hearing the news of a Sudrian sub-parliament, they mustered a devious plan to attempt to be crowned co-First Ministers. They agreed on a party name: The Sudrian Green Party, in an attempt win the hearts of ecologists and liberals on the island, the few there are. While Pell agreed for the political aspect, I am sorry to say that Mr. Spencer only adopted the name only to disguise his insatiable hatred for steam locomotives (they did make him lose his job after all) as “helping the environment.”


Lord Cameron Callan - another member of an ancient line of Sudrian nobles, or rather Scottish ones, our kindly old enthusiast from the foothills of the Sudrian highlands decided that he should spread his Scottish enlightenment upon the Sudrian people; he and his fellow partisans, the Whigs of Sudria, believe Sudria’s history as part of the Kingdom of the Isles land it as a rightful part of an independent Scotland.


Mayor Cleveland “Clee” Freeman - The aging Mayor of Knapford, and one of the only foreigners of Sodor, coming from an Ashante family originating from Ghana and Liberia, the Mayor, hoped that his Knapfordian leadership would propel him to victory. A Liberal advocating for pride and expression of all races, sexual orientations, and religions, sadly more so than the well being of his own town, believes that his noble African blood and his silver tongue will earn him his rightful podium of Sudrian leadership.


Ms. Sharon Miller - You didn’t expect this one did you? Well I, nor my Sudrian cohorts did either. The fair Ms. Miller, ex-head writer of hit television show “Thomas and Friends”, decided that the path of retirement led her to the beautiful island we call home. However, retirement does not come easy for everyone, and some of her radical anti-railway policy certainly did not earn her the vote of the innumerable railway staff. Oh… and did I mention? Do not be fooled - this is not the part of Sodor you think. Do you remember Misty Island? You don’t? Be quiet, no one can forget that place. Well, her campaign headquarters so happens to be set up at the mysterious hidden logging railway on the island as well. If there was any tampering with that election, do not be surprised if her and her team of loco loggers and her smuggling ship, Johnny Cuba, had anything to do with it...


Sodor Day - November 9th 2015


Nonetheless, it was without patience that Sodor’s regional Day arrived. Banners, decorations, and streamers lined stations, courthouses, churches, and especially voting centers. Once more the people of Sodor flocked to the voting places. It was on this day that the person who would lead Sodor into a new era of glory or folly would be decided!


And now before I bore you to sleep, here was the final tally!


Sudrian Unionist Party - Sir Charles Nicholas Hatt - 25,120 votes - 33%

Sudrian Nationalist Party - Sir Robert of Norramby - 24,444 votes - 32%

Sudrian Green Party - Mr. Claiborne Pell and Mr. Norman Spencer - 17,209 votes - 23%

Sudrian Whig Party - Lord Cameron Callan - 8,000 votes - 11%

Sudrian Pride Party - Mayor Cleveland Freeman - 618 votes - .08%

Sudrian Reform Party - Ms. Sharon Miller - 112 votes - .01%


News anchors anxiously revealed the results, which came down to the wire. Sir Charles Hatt had become the inaugural First Minister, pleasing almost all of the Sudrian bourgeoisie. However, as the FPTP (First Past the Post) election system would demand, despite no candidate having a majority, the candidate with the most votes, Sir Hatt won. This however, would prove a fatal time in modern Sudrian history. However, this, my friends, is a story for later. Until then, I bid you fair readers good tidings.


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Modern Sudrian History 1:


2015:

FEB 5 : David Cameron promises a vote for Sudrians to be represented by a sub-parliamentary system and to be divided into several parliamentary districts if he is elected.


MAY 5 : David Cameron is re elected as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.


OCT 6 : The sub-parliamentary system is established, and the vote for first minister and supreme party on "Sodor Day" is won narrowly by Charles N. Hatt and the Sudrian Unionist Party, by 676 votes, a margin of 1% over the Sudric Nationalist Party and the Earl.


NOV 22: Radical Earl supporters dump tonnes of coffee into Tidmouth Harbour in protest of what they believed to be a rigged election.


NOV 23: The First minister reads a public telegram and addresses the public on live television.


NOV 24: A second attempt of protest is committed, as the Knapford Harbour warehouse is burnt down.


NOV 25: The First minister reads his second public telegram reprimanding local police.


The Prime Minister sends a letter to the First Minister requesting he handle the problems arising on the island or he will take personal action to settle them and dismantle the sub-parliamentary system.


NOV 26:  More Earl’s rioters protest by injuring First Minister’s national guard sent to investigate and patrol the Earl’s estate and gets into a skirmish with some of the troops.


NOV 27: The Prime Minister declares the sub-parliamentary system a failure, as the implementation of the system has caused public retaliation and has failed to be able to defend its people, and so he deploys troops to move in and secure the capital.


NOV 28: The Earl vows to defend the island against invasion, though he is too drunk to function.


DEC 1: As British forces mobilize, the Archduke quickly announces his defence of the island against “invasion”, and mobilizes his troops to the east.


DEC 15: [EASTERN THEATRE] British troops cross the bridge to Walney, which is blown up and burnt down by the Vicarstown Rocketeers.


DEC 21: [EASTERN THEATRE] Walnese troops engage the British who have crossed the Legg’s Cork Creek at Norbridge Park, but are pushed back to Sudria.




2016:


JAN 1: [EASTERN THEATRE] Attempting to create a foothold in the east, British forces attack base camps south of metropolitan Vicarstown, and engage at many farms, often burning them down in a “scorched earth” tactic. After receiving heavy losses, Sudrian forces fall back to Great Waterton, Ballahoo, Norramby, and the Archduke at Crovan’s Gate.


JAN 22: [EASTERN THEATRE] British forces have secured a foothold at Vicarstown. They move out, and attempt a tactical advance through the valley of Crovan’s Gate. However, in a stunning recreation of an ancient tactics, the Archduke leads his and some of the Earl’s troops from behind the crest of a hill and fire and charge the troops at the top of the hill in guerrilla-esque warfare, and cripple the unsuspecting  British forces. The Archduke quickly moves his artillery to the top of the small hill, and the British forces must now quickly retreat east to their foothold at Vicarstown.


FEB 1: [EASTERN THEATRE] In what is perhaps the Earl’s premiere tactic of the war, he decides to take charge. British forces, with their heavy troops and supply trucks must take a valley by the railway east so as to get back to base quickly. However, the Earl pushes his forces from Great Waterton south and his forces at Norramby (some of his most prestigious forces) north to squeeze them in the valley, and attack. British forces pick up their pace and head east, but all is lost after the Archduke’s artillery, encamped atop Henry’s tunnel, bombard the British forces. All of the troops left after Crovan’s Gate are lost for the British.


FEB 10: [LAMBRECHT THEATRE] British forces attempt a second way of getting to Parliament, by the south. They deploy troops from Blackpool and Liverpool to land on the bilingual (German and English) speaking island of Lambrecht.


FEB 11: [LAMBRECHT THEATRE] Lambrechtische forces (Mostly loyal to the Earl of Lambrecht, but some support Archduke) counter the invasion at Kleinenbach (in English, some call it Smalley’s Brook) which is inconclusive. British and Lambrechtische forces both suffer heavy losses, however Lambrechtische forces withdraw to a strategic position.


FEB 15: [LAMBRECHT THEATRE] After four days of retreat and three days of British advance, the Lambrechtische forces dig in at Knollkopf (Head Knoll in English) which is at an elevated but flat piece of table land above the coastal plain, where the British plan to split up and attack from both sides. The Earl of Lambrecht’s slightly out of date artillery bombards them while they are unified, and his troops are able to hold them off in a Pyrrhic victory. With so much being spent and the threat out east growing and forces dwindling, the British retreat off of Lambrecht to help defend their base at Vicarstown.


MAR 10: [EASTERN THEATRE] British forces have reunited and have replenished to their original strength. Sudrian forces, now backed by Callanite, Normanbic, Norrambic, and Norssex troops, are at their greatest strength of about 50,000 (it would be 55,000, but the Duke of Boxford remains strictly neutral, as he wanted to defend the parliament from threats, as he wanted the sub-parliamentary relationship to stay). The British send essentially all of their forces in a northerly direction across the bogs near the River Amos rather than repeating Crovan’s Gate. However, Sudrian battalions have had the same plan. They have waited to replenish themselves so as to be at full strength while trying to take back Vicarstown. However, when at slightly elevated land compared to the bogs below, and scouts spot British advances toward the River Amos, they dig in. Trying to bait them toward artillery fire, they send at least a brigade onto the river to counter them. They cross, and are “pushed back” with very few losses or gains. Just as they are retreating and the Brits advance, the Archduke’s artillery barrage bombards the advance at the river and cripples it. More troops engage, artillery continues to strategically fire, as more and more British pour in, trying to take advantage of any elevation they have, but are eventually run low and retreat. Sudrian forces advance, and the land begins to flatten. The artillery digs in and bombards Vicarstown and forces all remaining traces of British forces off the island with the help of some remaining Grenadiers and fusiliers of the line. British forces who wish not to be killed cross the viaduct east toward Walney, where they are once again bombarded by the few remaining Walnese troops who retreated into bunkers and the Vicarstown Rocketeers. Very few troops escape, and Sudrian troops loom over the horizon to invade.


MAR 11: [EASTERN THEATRE]

The British forces dig in by the River Leven in Cumbria where they meet with more troops and try to replenish. A diplomat is sent to stop the conflict, but the Archduke refuses his conditions to absorb them and let their sub-parliamentary system have more power, knowing it would lead to naught but more trouble. A time of peace ensues, until the British try one last attempt to invade.


MAR 15:  The British troops assigned to defending the Isle of Man are still lying stationary, having no need to defend. Some of the commanders are loyal to their Sudrian brethren, and so when the Prime Minister and his generals ask they invade Sudria from the west, they refuse, and so the British withdraw their defence of the island and their status as Crown Dependency is moot. But instead of returning to Britain, they form their own militia to defend their island and assist in Sudrian affairs if need be. The Isle of Man supports the Sudrian war effort with everything they have. Ireland and Northern Ireland (N.I. is a province and do not want to get involved but Northern Irish in the British Army are forced to deploy and help out east since they don’t want to face Normanby and Man) stay out of the war.  


MAR 25: [NORTHERN THEATRE] Spring has finally arrived. The British have rallied some forces at Whitehaven and Carlisle instead of supporting the men at the River Leven, Barrow, and Windermere. Most Sudrian forces are concentrated out east, so the British attack from the north. They find little to no forces awaiting on the shore of the Isle of Normanby. As their objective is to head south, they dig in, but do not invade the rest of the island. However, garrisoned at Fort Sheffield and Johnstoun on the isle, the Archduke and Earl’s loyal Normanbic troops as well as the local militia attack the base camp on the island and force them onto the mainland so they have a longer trip to deploy.


MAR 26: [NORTHERN THEATRE] The battalion size troop of British forces climb the cliffs of the north and set up a small base camp at the sparsely populated area near Scrupheytoun. Sudrian naval vessels blockade the islands and attack British vessels who try and deploy forces, also limiting the size of invasion.


MAR 27: [NORTHERN THEATRE] It is Easter day. Rather than rejoicing in the lord (as perhaps they should have and regretted) they attempt continuing to move east, thinking there would be no one to stop them and if they did they would have the element of surprise on their side. However, as they cross Salmond’s Creek near the town of Burroughville, and the recently organized local militia [Who were notified by telegram from Johnstoun that the British were coming] and a few regiments of the proclaimed Governor-General’s forces actually surprise attack them and skirmish around fences and the Count of Norssex’s fencible troops help the efforts and push them back, to regroup.


MAR 29: [NORTHERN THEATRE] British forces have nowhere to go. Their camp is no longer safe and in threat of being attacked, so they move further back toward the coast and set up west of territory of mansions and farms surrounded by stone walls on their property (little artillery is used since it is very hard to do so with walls.). More Norsser troops move in, and now skirmish British troops along property lines and along fences attacking their camp. Since the British can not defend the camp well, Sudrian forces are able to push them back and capture the camp.


MAR 31: [NORTHERN THEATRE] The British forces are pushed back to the top of the cliff/hill overlooking the shore. Evacuation is called, but they do their best to fortify. Some light artillery arrives and by the time evacuation is ready to arrive the battle is all but won for Sudria. They took losses, but not as heavy as the British, and eventually the British are forced off the Island. This will be the last time British forces set foot on Sudrian soil.


APR 1: [EASTERN THEATRE] The Eastern theatre continues: But not on Sudria. Sudrian forces have captured Barrow-in-Furness in the recent weeks, in small, mostly unnamed skirmishes here and there. British forces are ready to cross the bridge over the River Leven and take back their land. The Archducal and Walnese forces commanded by Lord General Bauwmeister and the Archduke attack the fortifications with artillery on elevated land. The barrage, combined with genius tactics, good numbers thanks to local militias and some other Sudrian (Callanite, one Norssex regiments)  help them to capture the fortifications and push them back to Windermere.


APR 2: The Archduke and Lord General Bauwmeister leave their aides de camp and Lieutenant Generals to hold the advance and fortify near Windermere, as they return to the Lord General’s estate on a hill overlooking the city of Norbridge and the park where a battle had ensued months ago. They address an ultimatum to the Prime Minister. They request possession of the Isle of Man, the Channel Islands, and the part of Cumbria which they designate as “Sudrian Palatine”, the part of Cumbria which had once been part of the County Palatine of Lancaster. If they refuse to accept, Sudrian forces will attack the mainland until they would “capture Westminster ourselves.” They consider asking for Northern Ireland, but the population there is split and more war would be costly.


The Prime Minister is tired of the war, not wanting spend any more money or resources fighting it, and his public support has crashed due to how the war started and was executed, and it all will significantly contribute to the UK leaving the EU. Controversially (his acceptance may or may not have made his reputation worse) he signs the ultimatum, gives Sudrian Palatine, the Isle of Man (who had been traitors anyway) and give Sudria the Channel Islands, as an ocean-going base and active colony. This ultimatum ends the Sudrian War of Independence.

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