As drought was followed by floods by further drought, crops failed and we started to starve. Supermarkets were empty as foreign countries couldn't pay the tariffs and, understandably, prioritised their own populations over the people in this now alien territory.
Our mop-headed leader, who had grown portly on his own secret stockpiles of luxury foods, finally agreed to travel to foreign lands and request mercy. After being kept waiting for days, or in some cases weeks, he was allowed into the great white houses of the foreign powers.
The mop-headed one knelt reluctantly in front of each foreign court, which, only a few years ago, he had derided and insulted.
“We are hungry” our mop-headed leader said.
“And what do you want us to do?” asked the foreign powers “You cut all ties, now feed yourselves”.
The mop-headed leader returned to these shores. He turned out his empty pockets.
A tidal wave was growing in the northern seas.