America was feeling distinctly awkward; France had dragged all the nations to a bar in England, however, he hadn't told them that it was a gay bar. The night's entertainment was a man in drag, dressed in a shortish Union Jack dress, with a long blonde wig and extravagant makeup which didn't quite disguise his rather large eyebrows.
"Hey, don't you guys think he looks familiar?" America asked.
"Yeah, it's the eyebrows, they look like-" Canada began, but was interrupted, as per usual, by France.
"C'est Angleterre!" France cried, causing several nations to spit out their drinks.
"Ew! Like, Liet! Anyway, England? Nuh uh, that's just not right." Poland exclaimed.
"I know, I thought Poland was the only cross dresser..." Lithuania added.
"Hmm, this could be interesting, da?"
England began his act and had the crowd roaring with laughter within moments, the nations decided to keep a low profile, well, all except from France.
-
'WOO! STRIP!'
'Who's that impolite little bugger?' England roared at the whooping crowd.
'I AM.' France screamed back, oblivious to the other nations frantic pleas for him to be quiet.
'Such a little brat! I should teach you some bleedin' manners! Get your arse up here.'
France obeyed, hopping onto the stage.
'Bonjour Môn Cherie~' France sang, kissing England's hand.
'Just who do you think you're talking to here?' England demanded.
'Arthur Kirkland.' France smirked, pissing off England and the crowd. England reacted fairly quickly, bitch slapping France. Hard.
'It's Britannia, bitch! And don't you dare forget it.' France retreated to his seat and England carried on with his rant.
-
'Frenchmen, eh?' England rolled his eyes. 'I work with one, a complete dick! There is nothing he won't try to molest!' England paused for a moment before carrying on. He stepped to one side and began talking to where he was just stood, as if he was talking to someone standing there. Putting on a bad French accent he continued.
'Bonjour! I am Pierre, I am from France and I am here to have sex with your family.' The crowd roared with laughter, France began to get annoyed.
'TRAVESTI! I DON'T DO THAT!' He yelled, once again making a prat out of himself.
'OH SHUT UP!' England yelled and just carried on.
-
England's act was funny and undeniably British, although the odd couple of remarks did prompt some strange reactions from then other nations.
'The Heimlich maneuver, developed by doctor Heimlich, who woke up one night obviously - a fist, a hand, hoocha, hoocha, hoocha... lobster. Yes,'
He stepped to one side and put on a German accent.
Hilda, Hilda, wake up! He stepped to the other side, Ah, what is it doctor Heimlich?
Step Why are you calling me doctor Heimlich, I am your husband for fucks sake. Loosen up, don't be so fucking Prussian. Step
Well, what is it Gunther? Step
I have invented a manoeuvre... Step
What are you, a bloody tank commander now? –
"What's wrong with being Prussian? We're fucking awesome!" Prussia moped, prompting Canada to put his arm around the ex-nation.
-
We stole countries! That's how you build an empire. We stole countries with the cunning use of flags! Just sail halfway around the world, stick a flag in. "I claim India for Britain." And they're going, "You can't claim us. We live here! There's five hundred million of us." "Do you have a flag?"
"We don't need a bloody flag, this is our country you bastard!"
"No flag, no country! You can't have one. That's the rules... that... I've just made up! And I'm backing it up with this gun... that was lent from the National Rifle Association."
India cocked an eyebrow.
"Pfft, sounds about right, but the bastard was a lot less polite than that." Several other nations nodded in agreement, remembering the time they too were invaded by the bushy browed nation.
-
Americans say 'erbs', and we say 'herbs', because there's a fucking 'H' in it!
"I improved his freakin' language!" America cried, making the others roll their eyes.
-
"Cake or death?" That's a pretty easy question. Anyone could answer that.
"Cake or death?"
"Eh, cake please."
"Very well! Give him cake!"
"Oh, thanks very much. It's very nice."
"You! Cake or death?"
"Uh, cake for me, too, please."
"Very well! Give him cake, too! We're gonna run out of cake at this rate. You! Cake or death?"
"Uh, death, please. No, cake! Cake! Cake, sorry. Sorry..."
"You said death first, uh-uh, death first!"
"Well, I meant cake!"
"Oh, all right. You're lucky I'm Church of England!" Cake or death?"
"Uh, cake please."
"Well, we're out of cake! We only had three bits and we didn't expect such a rush. So what do you want?"
"Well, so my choice is 'or death'? I'll have the chicken then, please.
"Taste of human, sir. Would you like a white wine? There you go, thank you very much."
" Thank you for flying Church of England."
"Cake or death? With England's cooking?" Germany said out loud.
"Death." The other nations all chorused at once.
-
After the show the nations visited England's dressing room. (They snuck in through the window) only to find the brit topless and removing his makeup.
'Nice show, mom Cherie!' France purred, putting his arm around England's shoulders.
'FUCK OFF YOU FRENCH BASTARD. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LOT EVEN HERE?' England screamed, highly annoyed.
'France's idea!' Prussia yelled and hid behind Canada, who rolled his eyes dramatically.
'America, aru?' China poked the taller nation, ever since he'd seen England America's face had been one of confusion, disgust and amusement.
'A-America?' England asked, concerned.
'I think we should leave these two alone, da?' Russia stated, France looked like he was about to argue, but then he saw the flash of a metal pipe and quickly left the room.
-
'Penny for your thoughts?' England asked, poking America.
'I'm confused, Ig...' America scratched his head.
'Inner battle? I know that parts of you are still pretty set in their ways...' England pointed out, certain parts of America were still quite old fashioned and religious.
'Yeah... I s'pose.'
'It's 'Yes, I suppose' you really have butchered my language.'
'Whatever, why do you do it? You'd be just a funny without all this...'
'America, it's an alter ego. Being Britannia isn't just acting like a woman, it's like being taken over by one.' England explained.
"Yeah, but you're a drag queen." England punched him.
"DON'T CALL ME THAT."
"Then what the hell are you?"
"I'm an executive transvestite actually. Now, if you don't mind." England shoved him out the door.
"B-but..." America began, but had the door slammed in his face, England turned and faced his mirror.
"Bloody git."
Sorry, but this just HAD to be done.
The quotes in bold are all taken from Eddie Izzard's dressed to kill
I don't own Hetalia or Eddie Izzard.