by John Buckley
Part 1
“Battle draw nears Hardy.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“The battle that will put an end to Napoleon’s hopes of ever invading us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Trafalgar. The defining moment of my career, Hardy.”
“Undoubtedly, sir.”
“If we sink the French fleet today, Hardy, our beautiful country is safe and Britain will rule the waves for ever more. Think of that, Hardy. Safe from that blackguard Bonaparte and we shall be heroes.”
“Tis a sobering thought, my lord.”
“Time, I think, to send the signal: England expects every man to do his duty.”
“I will see to it straight away, sir.”
“My God man, what are you doing?”
“Texting the men, sir.”
“You’re what-ing the men?”
“Texting them, sir. Mobile phones, they’ve all got them. Ing… xpex… F-ry… man… 2do…hs.. du-T.”
“What are you blithering on about Hardy? Have the flags raised this instant.”
“Well, I could sir, but this is more efficient.”
“I want something that will resonate through the ages, not some half-formed gobbledegook. Ing?”
“Short for England sir, like you said.”
“Flags! See to it Hardy.”
“As you say, sir, but…”
“But what?”
“The men, sir.”
“Yes.”
“They all laugh sir. They say, here’s Nelson with his little bunting and then they giggle. They think…”
“What do they think, Hardy?”
“They think you’re sweet, sir.”
“Sweet? The victor at the Battle of the Nile. At Copenhagen. Sweet! I am Nelson. I am a legend.”
“Instead, sir, I just use my two thumbs, see, press this button here, and – there – all the men have got the message.”
“Confound it. That’s amazing. I can hear them cheering. Thumbs, eh? And it’s all of them?
“Well, er, you have only got the one, my lord.”
“No, I mean, all the men have these, er, mobile phones do they?”
“It’s the latest thing, sir.”
“What’s that noise? Who’s playing the hornpipe?”
“No-one sir. It’s an incoming call. Ssshhh.”
“What!”
“Oh, hello dear. Sorry. Speak up. I can hardly hear… I. Am. On. A. Ship. Afraid so, dear. Yes, the French again. Well, it’s not my idea. Look, I have to go. I’ll be home in, oh, about four months. Bye. Yes, me too. Bye.”
“You mean you can talk to people on those things as well?
“Yes, sir.”
“Good Lord. And the French, do they have them?”
“Oh yes, sir. And there’s no shortage of masts around here. Well, not at the moment.”
“Do you mean I can take their surrender on that thing?”
“I am sure Admiral Villeneuve would be honoured, sir.”
“Then give it to me Hardy.”
“Yes sir, but there’s just one thing.”
“Which is?”
“You’ll get a better reception up on deck.”
Part 2
“Not tonight Josephine.”
“Aw, but Napoleon darling, I am in the mood.”
“Well, I am not. Now go to sleep.”
“Help me go to sleep, my sweetheart.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Control your urges woman.”
“I am ready for love.”
“I have to be up early in the morning.”
“Oh! Where are you going now? Not Russia surely, you know what happened the last time.”
“Don’t mention Russia.”
“Spain?”
“Non!”
“Italy again?”
“Non!”
“Austria, then?”
“Non!”
“A sea cruise then? Are we going on a cruise?”
“We cannot mon cherie. Every time I get some ships the British sink them.”
“Aw, that’s not fair. Is that where your nickname comes from?”
“I have no nickname.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. Ever since Trafalgar they call you…
“What do they call me?”
…Napoleon Blownapart!”
“It is an insult.”
“Where then? Where are you going?”
“Waterloo.”
“Where on earth…”
“Belgium.”
“Belgium! You’re not going to fight them are you? That should take about five minutes. Tiny place full of busybody government officials and pigeon fanciers.”
“No, I am not fighting them.”
“Who then?”
“Not saying.”
“Who? Not the British. Not Wellington?”
“Might be.”
“But he has never lost a battle.”
“Until tomorrow.”
“He always wins!”
“He has not faced me.”
“I hear he is a brilliant swordsman.”
“Hmff! I doubt he has ever fought a duel.”
“I didn’t say he had. I hear no one thrusts better than Wellington.”
“But I am Napoleon Bonaparte!”
“Yes, I know, darling. I would never have got into bed if it had been someone else.”
“Really, Josephine?”
“Well, maybe. Just by accident. Once or twice. But you, you will leave our bed while I sleep.”
“I do it for France.”
“Then love me tonight.”
“I cannot.”
“Will you be taking your big cannon?”
“Stop it, Josephine. I’ve told you, not tonight.”
“Shall I make it go… boom?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Boom, boom.”
“I must make an early start. Glory awaits.”
“But why are you fighting?”
“For peace, my darling.”
“Er, right. But you have been fighting for peace since 1796 and it’s now 1815.”
“Yes, see how dedicated I am to peace?”
“After Austerlitz you said there would be peace. Everyone was excited and then you told them peace off.”
“And tomorrow France shall have peace. Think of it. A unified Europe France, Holland, Spain, Italy, Austria, Germany… all under one government, a community of nations. A union! That’s it… the European Union, where everyone is free to trade with everyone else and everyone is free to go wherever they wish…”
“You do anyway.”
“I am l’Emperor and the whole of Western Europe will come together in the true spirit of fraternity and do as I tell them.”
“Huh, as if Britain will ever do as it told.”
“Oh, they will after tomorrow.”
“In that case love me tonight, Napoleon. Do it France!”
“Oh, all right. For the Tricolour! But you must get me before six o’clock. If we start late and the Prussians get there on time, who knows what may happen.”
“Darling.”
“Yes?“
“Put your sexy sideways hat on.”
“Not tonight Josephine.”
Bio:
John Buckley was a journalist for 35 years and now runs a community magazine in his home town of Northwich, Cheshire, UK. He has been shortlisted for more awards than he has won – drat! – and his novel Bonnie and Claude is available at Amazon.
Loved this, it gave me a great laugh!