How do we cheer up the English?

And some Oreos.
 
I mean . . . if that counts as a party, maybe we're starting to get an idea why the English are such a glum folk.
How now, brown cow? It's a table of sturdy oak supporting the finest sugary delights the NHS could afford. Balloons and banners tastefully balanced in number and colour, red cloth to honour the sacrifices in the trenches of Ypres, and a parade of plates made of the finest Chinese porcelain. Roast beast perfectly processed to a tender, uniform brown atop the famous breads imported from France and flanked by carefully crafted German lagers to whet the whistle. In contrast with the continental classics, there's the latest in space-age foam technologies on display to keep your refreshing beverage of choice from being warmed by the gammon heat of the hand. Want to cleanse the palate? The sweetest grapes and strawberries, designed by man with minimal seeds for maximal enjoyment, have been washed and pre-capped for the reveler's conveneince.

There is not one, not two, but three tiers of cakery, each sweet boasting of flavors from across the former Empire. Where will your tastebuds travel first? To Madagascar for a sample of vanilla? To the Americas for an indulgence of chocolate? To the plains of Europe for beet-sweetened red velvet? Of course, there'se plenty of petite reminders of home: the red busses carrying callous-handed and stout-hearted folks to grab some of their favourite chippy, Ben's timepiece made famous by the world, and the studly Coldstream Guardsman who's ever-vigilant against the wolves that lurk in the shadows. Of course, the entire display is topped off with a tasteful reference to the meaning of life: 42.

Finally, a careful eye will spot a formation of gift bags, prepared to be marched by the column, into the hands of partygoers who will want to reminisce about such a grand day.
 
The people have fled its sparse and paltry offerings, one of them abandoning a cell phone in his eagerness to be anywhere but there!
 
Why, what have they done to warrant cheering up? :p
 
I think it's the German occupation. Back when their royals were Frenchmen the English were much more productive. Maybe it's time for another regime change? :)
 
How do we cheer up the English?

I bet one of the problems is that stuff they call "pudding" that isn't pudding. You know, the bready stuff. I recommend we rename it all to more logical names while they're sleeping.

Tea time, during which you don't even have to consume any tea, that's also a bit confusing. If you invite someone over for tea, tea should be served. Otherwise the country will slowly fall into depression.

Their football team winning a trophy of some kind would probably help. Maybe we could bribe FIFA to have the English football team be admitted to the Asian confederation, as opposed to the European? They already left Europe, and they have zero chance winning anything in UEFA anyhow. They might just have a chance beating the likes of Japan and Iran though.

This might be a bit of a stretch, but they seemed to be happier when they had a queen. Maybe the king should get a sex change? I'm sure he'd be down for that, given that the happiness of the country is at stake. And if he isn't, surely there's some princess out there who wouldn't mind being queen.

They should also probably have a dragon on their flag. The current iteration combines the English and Scottish flags into one. What about Wales though? That's one badarse looking dragon, surely a British flag upgrade would raise the happiness index of the whole island.

Perhaps we should also run some sort of a disinformation campaign to convince them that it's not raining.
 
Yeah, they'll probably grow out of it.
 
That's one badarse looking dragon, surely a British flag upgrade would raise the happiness index of the whole island.
No, it would just remind many of them that they can't afford to pay for removing the Daenerys tattoos from their buttocks.
Or changing their kid's name.
 
The English have produced punk rock, trip-hop, and the most grim crime-dramas on tv.

I don't want them cheered up.


Listen to the silence, let it ring on
Eyes, dark grey lenses frightened of the sun
We would have a fine time living in the night
Left to blind destruction, waiting for our sight

Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, to the radio


Spoiler :
 
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