The Golden Johnson Awards

Aside from who won the war, one of the almost several facts known to every British patriot is that foreigners don't know what is good for them. If the wogs had been any good at governing themselves, there would have been no need for the likes of Robert Clive and Cecil Rhodes to whip them into shape and offer to secure their assets. To this very day the problem persists even among the highest quality foreign stock, some of whom have spent the last six months refusing to come over here and invade our science. While swarming hordes of mediocrities outwit the Minister for Wog Control, the Borderly Forcibles and the Royal Navy on a daily basis, the winners of prestigious if amusingly-named awards are actively snubbing the opportunity to be fast-tracked into the scientific service of a society which believes that non-private medicine can subsist on applause, and that the quality of almost anything may best be judged by what flag is waggled over it. Given the ingratitude of this cosmopolitan élite of mere experts, perhaps it is time for the mainland to take back control from the vexatious Swedes and the perfidious French, and to institute a national rah-rah for excellence in such genuinely patriotic skills as tax avoidance, asylum seeker processing and sewage fishing.