Tea, Trump, and tyranny: could America rejoin the British Empire?

It's a quiet day in the hallowed halls of Westminster when the unexpected happens: Donald J Trump, golden mane aglow, strides into the chamber, waving a tiny Union Jack. "Ladies and gentlemen," he bellows, "we're going to Make the Commonwealth Great Again-believe me, it's going to be tremendous!"

Yes, you read that right. Rumors are swirling that, in a historic twist, the United States might just apply to rejoin the British Commonwealth. And who better to lead the charge than Trump, a man whose understanding of British history surely begins and ends with Meghan Markle's Netflix specials?

The case for rejoining

The logic is ironclad, Trump's supporters argue. After all, who wouldn't want a bit of royal flair? Imagine the Fourth of July parades, now featuring a Buckingham Palace float. Fireworks in red, white, blue-and a tasteful touch of gold for the King. The Tea Party protests would suddenly look less like acts of rebellion and more like a minor cultural misunderstanding.

"We were just trying to save the tea," Trump might explain. "Great tea. Beautiful tea. The best tea."

For Trump, this isn't capitulation-it's completing the American Revolution. "People are saying this is a surrender. Fake news! This is the ultimate deal, folks. We're coming back as the top colony. No one's ever done that before."

What's in It for Britain?

Now, you might wonder what the Commonwealth gets out of this deal. Surely the UK isn't clamoring for a reunion with its rogue ex-colony. But think of the possibilities! A trade deal in which America gets Marmite and Britain gets freedom fries. A cultural exchange that swaps cricket for baseball (though the scoring confusion might spark another war). And finally, an opportunity for King Charles to reclaim his long-lost authority over "the colonies"-even if it's just symbolic.

Brexiters might grumble, but Westminster could spin it as a post-Brexit masterstroke. "We left Europe to take back America," they'd say, while quietly fretting over the economic impact of importing Bud Light.

A Commonwealth coup d'etat?

Would Trump settle for merely joining the Commonwealth? Unlikely. "We're gonna call it the Trumpwealth. The Brits had a great run, folks, but now it's time for an upgrade-platinum tier, no less."

Royal protocol might be tricky, though. Would Trump bow to King Charles? "I don't bow," he'd declare. "The King bows to me. He loves me. I'm told he said, 'Donald, you're the greatest Duke we've never had.'"

America's Founding Fathers rolling in their graves

Of course, this move would require some creative messaging. Imagine explaining to the ghosts of Washington, Jefferson, and Adams that their revolution was just a "soft launch." "They're pouring ghostly tea into the afterlife harbor," quips one historian, "while Jefferson drafts the Declaration of Re-Independence on spectral parchment."

But Trump wouldn't worry. "People don't know this, but George III and I-amazing guy-were actually great friends. If he'd had my Art of the Deal, the whole revolution thing? Never would've happened."

Cricket to golf and American exceptionalism

Then there's cricket-a sport as baffling to Americans as British humor. Trump would surely simplify it. "Too many wickets, too many runs-SAD! We're bringing in cheerleaders and a halftime show. Believe me, it's going to be bigger than the Super Bowl."

And let's not forget the Commonwealth Games. "They're losers right now," Trump might say. "We'll make them a winner. I'll call the IOC-huge friends of mine-and get them to merge it with the Olympics. One big game. The best game. With medals made of gold, not whatever they're using now."

Ah, golf-Trump's true love, rivaled only by mirrors and microphones. Imagine the Commonwealth's official sport being replaced with a Trump-designed hybrid: "Trump Golf Royale." The rules? Simple. Holes are gold-plated, caddies wear tuxedos, and every course features a replica of Mar-a-Lago as the clubhouse. "Golf is the best," Trump might proclaim, "and nobody golfs better than me. People say I should've won the Masters-tremendous swings, incredible putts, believe me." He'd likely insist on a "Covfefe Cup" tournament between Britain and America, with King Charles awkwardly holding the trophy aloft after losing to Trump in a sudden-death playoff. And if anyone dares to outscore him? Fake scorecards! "The wind was rigged," Trump would declare, gesturing wildly. "It was blowing against me-unbelievable! Nobody's faced harder conditions." Meanwhile, the Queen Consort might be tasked with ensuring there's always a steady supply of Trump-branded golf balls, each emblazoned with the motto: Make Pars Great Again.

America's new holidays

If this merger happens, American holidays will never be the same. Independence Day becomes "Reunion Day." Thanksgiving shifts from pilgrims to palace-themed potlucks. And imagine Trump personally lighting the Christmas pudding in the Tower of London while claiming he's the first to do it.

The final verdict

Will it happen? Probably not. But in a world where Brexit was a thing, and Trump's presidency was a thing, and Harry and Meghan's Netflix deal was definitely a thing-well, anything's possible.

And if it doesn't work out? No worries. Trump can always pitch a reality show: The Commonwealth Apprentice. Now, there's a special thing worth watching.