It all began during Dexy's Midnight Runners top pop hit "Genoa" when Chris Columbus was born. In an era when following your dreams was not as simple as just getting on Italy's Got Talent, he allowed Gallileo to put his plans of starring as Man-In-Toy-Shop in Home Alone 2 (Escape From New York) on hold, and write The Goonies instead with Steve Spielberg who was often found loitering around Leonardo Da Caprio's ILM workshop down the road.

 

So he approached King John of Portugal, who quite liked Gremlins (but not Joe Danté's Divine Comedy [something for the weekend in a woodshed]) but was unprepared to finance The Goonies, despite the promise of short skirted cheerleaders in damp dark caves. "Try Henry VII over in England, I think your Mrs Doubtfire will put even his Shakespeare to shame"

 

So off he trotted to the UK, where he got all tied up in red tape over what the something-or-other should be in Hairy Plopper And The Something-Or-Other's Stone.

 

Queen Isobel of Spain told him to Fuck Right Off when he presented Jingle All The Way, but the the Christian Monarchs funded Bicentennial Man. And when she saw the script for Peter 'Hobbit' Jackson: Sea Of Monsters, she gave him loads of cash to discover America. And film some sea monsters to save some cash on the way.

 

So, come 1787 (or 6:27pm), Columbus, Cap'n Hook, Nostradamus, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and George Washington all gathered in Queen Victoria's boudoir (or "Bowie do 'er" as Nostradamus quoth, chuckling at his own private prophetic pun. probably).

 

"For Queen and Country, we require thou goest and discovereth America, and claimeth her in one's name" said the miserable monarch (via Nostradamus, obviously, her not being born in Henry VII's day)

 

"Top Hole!" quoth Washington

"Tally ho!" quoth Columbus

"Tarriwags!" quoth Cap'n Hook, waving his Jesus Juice and Koran

"Let's build this continent on sausage rolls!" quoth Nostradamus, pointing at Jefferson, tittering like a loon.

"Who'se been pissing about with my keys again, I keep getting static shock" accused Jay, glowering at Franklin.

 

And off they sailed on the finest of ferries - Drake's Golden Behind (or something) it were most likely called. Anyhoo, upon arrival Nostradamus bade them anchor offshore for a few days "for we must arrive on 4th July exactly, so it can coincide with when we defeat an invasion of space monsters in 1996".

 

Actually, he didn't tell them that at first. He spoke in incomprehensible quatrains whilst gazing at the water in the bog bowl, premonitioning. Well, I say a premonition quatrain, it was more pointing at Jefferson and hysterically chortling "Calling COCKuPANTS of interplanetary craft!"

(Nostradamus clearly having confused Grace Slick with Karen Carpenter due to a ripple obfuscating the face of the sixties songstress in the space-time scrying pool. That's a ripple, not a nipple. Which may, or may not, have been on the Mannequin mannequin. That's mannequin, not many quim.)

 

Only a sound kicking got the actual prophecy out of him. And it was the concept of defeating the aliens by introducing a virus to their system that gave them the idea to irradiate the natives by infecting them with pox ridden blankets.

 

So you can thank Roland Emmerich for the genocide of the Native Americans, coz if Nostradamus hadn't seen the movie on Sky Movies via his freeview water pool of prophecy, they'd never have been able to adapt the "computer virus ending" into terms they could relate to in the 1800s. or something.

 

Anyhoo, they landed in America, where they were promptly met by a indigenous lifeform, Chief Loincloth-Rises-With-Big-Erect-Cock-And-Not-The-Wind-Honest-Guv.

 

"Welcome to um America, where heap big turkey run wild. Medicine man, he say, for brave to follow buffalo, brave must put ear to ground. When ear of Brave covered in buffalo shit, buffalo herd be close".

 

Jackson (thus far unmentioned as being a voyager) drew his six shooter. "Dayum. I'm gonna blow this jive-ass nigga" (not to be confused with either niggah or nigger or niger. Or even Nigel, for he has his future in British Steel. Until it's all outsourced to India). "I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furrrrrrious anger. Upon yo' ass. Dayum, that's one tasty turkey twizzler! I have had it with all these motherfuckin' rattlesnakes on the motherfuckin' plains!"

 

"Gitche Manitou, he say you on um beach, not plains of my father. Rattlesnake live in Colorado mountain with brother wolf and sister moon. And I know about Colorado as me have um book of heap plenty quatrains by paleface Nostradamus"

 

After a pox polluted present was presented to the Red Injun, they sat down for a feast of turkey minibites shaped like dinosaurs, they got down to writing constitutional independent stuffs.

 

"Let's break away from the Empire. Let us declare our independence. All the ladies, who're independent, throw your hands up at me"

 

And as none were allowed on the voyage, being subservient to men in all things, no ladies were around to raise hands, thus any consideration for feminine types and their vapours was dismissed and was deemed an inconvenience convenient to omit from The Curried Doors Of Power (during The Umpire's rule over India, obviously).

 

"Well, we need some constitutional rules"

"Dash it all man, it's damnedly hot out here. Can one not remove one's top hat, overcoat, scarf, white mink gloves, jacket, waistcoat and cravat?"

"Gadzooks! Are you mad man? We are gentlemen and shall dress accordingly. However, there are no ladies present, and it is excessively warm"

"May one also suggest... rolling up one's sleeves? If there are no Ladies, surely we should be able to expose our limbs without Ladies being aroused in lustful fashion and ravising us where we stand?"

"A most agreeable notion - Rambo (John Jay...) write that down. It's now every man's right to bare arms"

"Yo Adrian, you know, like, I know I'm a bit punchy, but I'm not dumb. But my writin'... jeez, what if I spell it wrong y'know. Like bear arms. Geddit Adrian? Bear arms, like arms of a bear? Not that you'd have bears in your pet store - ah c'mon Adrian, that was a good one. No?"

"Nostradamus, what's the worst interpretation of the right to bare arms"

"Well, some fool might interpret it as the right to bear arms, as in weaponry. Such as the right to own a M134 General Electric Minigun (7.62mm, full clip capacity of 5793 rounds-per-minute, 7.62 x 51 shells, 1.36kg recoil adaptors, muzzle velocity of 869m/s - the huge amazing rotary machine gun like what Blaine will have in Predator) in case a squirrel walks on their lawn, or a kid wants to kill all of his classmates and random other students."

"That's rather unlikely. What about a phased plasma rifle in the 40 watt range?"

"Only what I can see in the future, buddy"

"Nothing to worry about then!"

 

So, after having enshrined the right to brazenly bronze their limbs against British mode of accepted attire without fear of misinterpretation, talk turned to free speech.

 

"One is tired of conforming to The British Empire's rigid rules."

At this point, old Nostro chipped in "You need a fourth amendment, or something, to allow freedom of speech"

"But we've only decided on a departure from formal wear thus far, how can we have a fourth amendment?"

 

But Nostradamus just tapped his finger slyly against his nose: "ahh!", quoth the psychic sage.

 

"Fornicate me! Dost thou mean we canst shuffle off this o'erwieldy, verbose, archaic, articularity of complicated circumulatory converse?'

"America! Fuck yeah!" bellowed Washington.

"You actually mean, we can engage in discourse freely? How we wish? And we won't be outcast by our fellow Englishmen?"

"What can the fuckers do? They're twatting miles away, we can say whatever the fuck we like!"

"What... even... The Queen smells of poo?" said Hamilton, looking around nervously.

"Yep - and Nicole Shitsinger can't do a thing about it, so you go out there and drive my boy!"

"Ooooh, and can I call Crisps 'chips' and Chips 'fries'?"

"You can even call an arse a fanny if you want!"

"But a fanny is a fanny - a minge, vadge, quimm, beaver, front bottom, twat, cunt"

"You see any women around yer, I mean, these parts, laddie?"

"No sir"

"Then, young man, you'll have to pretend an arse is a fanny, until some actual red-skin fanny comes along (which is ours by right, and we know that God is with us coz he's white)"

"Cor! I think I'll even start calling my wallet a 'pocket-book'!"

"Calm down son, you're going mad with new found power"

"And I'll call a buoy a boo-wee too!"

"Not till after 2010ish you won't sonny", interrupted Nostradamus, "otherwise it won't be mildly amusing to slightly mistake it for a glam rock legend in his dotage. Oi! Jefferson - stop shagging that turkey. Don't you want somebody to love?"

 

But Jefferson was off again, chasing rabbits, knowing he was going to fall, as a hookah smoking caterpillar had given him the call. All the while muttering "let 'em say I'm crazy, what do they know, put your hand in my paw, Alice, don't ever let go"

 

Nothing's gonna stop him now.

 

or something.