Awkward Aukus

Biden, Johnson, Morrison and Macron walk into a bar… Yes this is the beginning of a bad joke.

It is little over a month since Australia, America and the UK signed the Aukus nuclear submarine deal, and in so doing slightly upset France – or more precisely Mr Macron. As a result of Aukus, the French missed out on a A$50 billion bilateral deal with Australia to sell them some conventional submarines. A primary purpose of these submarines is to counter the swelling military and naval power of China.

Whatever the semantics may entail, let us just imagine how such a meeting of the four in a downtown British boozer might play out in this aftermath – without any delegates or carers to buttress their wild steeds.

 

Sitting round a small circular table the four leaders all faced one another. Biden nervously rubbed his glass of sparkling water, staring at it intently. Johnson and Morrison heartily cheers-ed each other before taking a large gulp from their pints of beer. And Macron elegantly swished the red wine round the bosom of his glass before giving it a hearty and noisy nasal sniff.

‘Ze elephant in ze room we must remove!’ Macron declared suddenly, waggling his little right index finger emphatically in the air.

‘Oh yes, bloody hell. My greatest apologies to you, err my esteemed fellow statesman,’ bumbled Johnson. Rising from his seat he reached over Biden’s head and ripped the magnificent old elephant painting off the wall, along with a considerable amount of plaster, and frisbeed it out a nearby window. Glass shattered everywhere.

‘What are you doing man?!’ cried Biden.

‘Just doing what the good man requested. I’m a man of action!’ Johnson explained before downing the rest of his pint as if to prove the point. He beckoned the barmaid over from the other side of the room with a mixture of hand waves and eyebrow movements.

Macron rolled his eyes before aiming them at Morrison. ‘This is ze nincompoop you dumped me for,’ he said matter-of-factly pointing his regal index finger at Johnson with his eyes still firmly fixed on the Australian leader.

‘Yeeeee,’ Morrison grinned. ‘Got a strong arm on him though doesn’t he. And that’s what we want,  the strongest possible deterrent to counter the Chineeeeeese.’

Morrison’s voice trailed off as the barmaid arrived at their table.

‘Ah, yes. Barmaid. About time. Fantastic. Time for another round,’ blathered Johnson. ‘I’ll have another pint of the same. So will Morrison. Get Macron another glass of that fancy red stuff. And another tall gin with a small dash of tonic for old Biden.’

‘But I’m not drinking…’ Biden began.

‘Nonsense. Nonsense,’ Johnson insisted.

‘And what about the smashed window and damaged artwork please sir,’ asked the barmaid. ‘Will you compensate us for that?’

‘Ah well, about that. Yes, no. Well,’ Johnson stuttered, stroking his radiant blonde mop of hair before leaning over to her and continuing in a rather more hushed tone, ‘Perhaps we can put that one on the taxpayer’s bill. Pick anyone of them in the room you please. It was an official government diplomatic endeavour after all you see. Yes, quite right. It’s agreed then. Okay, jolly good. Now, those drinks if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘She must be with the Chinese! They’ve infiltrated us!’ hissed Morrison, discreetly pointing his thumb at the barmaid as she awkwardly retreated to fetch the drinks. ‘They’ll be listening to our every word and breath. Check under your seats and the table for recording devices.’

‘Who? What? Racism! You can’t just accuse that lovely young lady of being a Chinese Communist Party spy just because she’s ethnically Asian – you nasty bigoted old white man!’ Biden exclaimed. ‘In America we strongly repudiate racism and if you have a moral bone in your body you should too! We all should!’

‘Oh yes, quite right, quite right,’ Johnson nodded vigorously. ‘By the way, in Britain we absolutely send all our racists to Coventry – we were even doing it before the whole BLM thing, we’re pioneers. That’s why I’m not there you see, because I’ve never been accused of racism.’

‘Enough! You American vassal!’ roared Macron. ‘Obviously she is not a spy and obviously there is no reason to search ze entire Elephant Pub for recording devices! Can we focus on why we are here! I want answers!! And I want compensation! ARGGHHHH! I WANT BLOOD!!’ With a frenzied passion he jumped to his feet, his body shaking, he grabbed the pram resting beside the table next to the four leaders and launched it out the window next to the broken window. Glass shattered everywhere.

Biden, Johnson and Morrison looked at each other a little stunned as Macron proceeded to gulp down the rest of his red wine where he stood. ‘Barmaid, where is my next one,’ he said, holding his right hand out expectantly.

‘My baby!!’ shrilled the pram owner from the other table. She charged up to Macron and with a great big backswing slapped him around his left cheek followed by his right cheek with two accomplished tennis player like shots.

‘Oo la la,’ grinned Macron splendaciously.

The proud mother glared at him ferociously for a long second before turning back to her table, grabbing the large jug of water and throwing it over the French President’s face.

‘Oooof, he’s wet now isn’t he!’ Johnson chortled, nudging Biden and Morrison beside him, ‘Eh? Eh lads?’

A shocked Macron stood rooted to the spot – water dripping from his face – as the mother raced over to the window to save her baby. At the same time the barmaid, approaching the world leaders with the tray of drinks, suddenly flung the tray and its contents behind her, and marched emphatically up to the four world leaders. Behind her another window shattered. ‘What on Earth is wrong with you people!?’ she screamed. ‘Stop breaking things!!’

‘I stand with you sister,’ said Biden before taking a knee on the floor and raising his fist in the air.

A second later Johnson dropped to the floor to imitate Biden, checking the American’s stance every half second to make sure he was doing it the right way. ‘Sisters. Yes my treasured sisters. All of them. Absolutely right. This is for you,’ he burbled.

‘You stupid belligerents!’ the barmaid exclaimed, pulling them up by their ears simultaneously with each hand. ‘I don’t need pity. I am power!’

Now convinced she was a spy Morrison jumped at the barmaid. ‘Right!’ he bellowed before leaping at her head, ‘I know who you’re working for! Unhand them!’

In the fracas that ensued Morrison tugged at the barmaid’s hair to try and drag her away. But instead of pulling her away the only thing the Australian Prime Minister drew away was the black wig from her head. Everyone froze.

‘What the…’ murmured Morrison as none other than Chinese premier Xi Jinping slowly lifted his head up to the light to reveal his face now unshrouded by the deception of the wig. ‘I… I… I told you! I told the lot of you! She’s so much of a spy she’s Xi Jinping!! Quick Macron, help us!’ Morrison cried.

But as he turned around to urge on the French leader to offer his assistance he beheld in distress as Macron lurched not at Xi but towards their table before reaching to its underside and pulling out a large red button and a gas mask. Everyone’s mouths dropped – aside from Xi’s. They watched with bated breath. Having fastened the gas mask to his face Macron proceeded in a contorted robotic sounding French voice, ‘Sacré bleu. Ze little game is up my dear, dear allies.’

‘But Macron!’ cried Biden. ‘What are you doing?!’

The French President cackled like the Terminator as Xi retrieved a gas mask for himself from behind the bar and the pub’s other distressed customers fled for the exit. ‘Why I’m just treating allies like allies apparently treat allies of course. In my hands here I control a diabolical gas system rigged around ze entire pub. First you will feel drowsy and quickly you will fall fast asleep.’

‘Very good,’ clapped Xi as he returned with his own gas mask. ‘Gentlemen, you are all about to be taken to a perfectly innocent re-education camp in the beautiful, safe and peaceful country, and centre of the world, that is China. With time you will come to understand that Australia is not permitted nuclear submarine technology – ever. Instead, France will have their prior deal to sell conventional submarines to Australia honoured. This way China’s glorious march to world domination can continue unthreatened!’

‘And France will receive ze payment that is rightfully hers,’ added Macron, waggling his right index finger triumphantly. Slowly that angular consequential finger made its way towards the big red button to release the gas.

‘But Macron, my honourable French counterpart, friend and partner, why are you doing this?’ cried Johnson as Macron’s finger hovered over the red.

‘It’s simple no?’ the Frenchman leered, ‘I have an election to win next month. And, of course, Brexit must mean doooooooom!’