My British Pony: Stereotypes Are Magic

by CartsBeforeHorses

Chapters

Friendship is Magic, Parts 1 and 2
The Ticket Monger
Pure Blood Boasters
A Christmas Mareol
Green Isn't Your Colour
Crystal Pony Independence Referendum

Friendship is Magic, Parts 1 and 2

Twilight Sparkle raced down the street of Canterlot towards her home. As she ran, a unicorn mare stopped her.

“Ah, Twilight Sparkle, milady! Moondancer is havin’ a knees-up at the courtyard. Shall you attend?” asked Twinkleshine.

“No, I’m dreadfully sorry,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I’ve got heaps of maths homework and magics homework to complete.”

Twilight Sparkle dashed off towards the castle.

“Does that pony do anything besides study? Methinks she’s more interested in books than mates,” said Twinkleshine.

Back at home, Twilight busily sorted through her dusty tomes.

“Wingardium leviosa!” she shouted as hundreds of books floated through the air around her and she sorted through them.

“Oh, bollocks. I can’t find it. But I know it’s in here somewhere,” she said. “I know I’ve heard of the Elements of Amity before. Help me look, Simon.”

“But we’re on holiday!” Simon the dragon protested.

“Found it!” Twilight declared. “Nightmare Moon shall return on the longest day of the thousandth year after her imprisonment by the Elements of Amity. Queen Celestia the Second must be informed! Simon, write a letter and send it in the dragon post!”

Simon, ever diligent, did as he was told. He soon received a reply from Celestia, which he read aloud.

“Dear Twilight Sparkle. You simply must stop reading those dusty old books. Ponyborough Upon Everfree requires an organiser to make preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration. Hence, I shall send you there to attend to it. But primarily, I want you to make some friends!“

“Ponyborough Upon Everfree? But… but what about Canterlot?” asked Twilight.

“‘Tis a silly place,” Simon responded.

Upon travelling through the air on a pegasus chariot, the unicorn and her dragon friend reached the quaint town of Ponyborough Upon Everfree.

“Now, Simon,” said Twilight, “The fate of Equestria does not rest upon me making connexions with other ponies.”

“Aw, cheer up, Twi. Maybe some of these ponies will have interesting things to converse about,” said Simon. As they walked down the path, they met a pink pony. She gasped at them, and then ran off.

“Interesting things, eh? You mean like she just did, then?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

“Um… no,” said Simon, blushing. “I’m sure they will, though.”

Twilight levitated a checklist in front of her eyes.

“Item number one. Banquet preparations.”

They reached a farmhouse. Outside stood an orange-coated pony wearing a kilt around her waist and a Tam o’ Shanter atop her head.

“Hello. An’ who might you be, then?” the pony spoke in a thick Scottish accent.

“Twilight Sparkle. And you?”

“Me name’s Applejack,” she said as she started piling food upon the table. “An’ this is me clan. There’s Apple Haggis, Apple Scone, Apple Chips, Apple Dumpling, Apple Muffin, Apple Tea, Apple Cider, Apple Bloom, Granny Smith, an’ Big Mackintosh.”

The aforementioned ponies gathered round the table.

“Pleased to meet your acquaintance, lassie,” said Big Mackintosh, shaking Twilight’s hoof.. “We here at Sweet Apple Acres are preparin' the food for the festival.”

“Oh.”

“Aye,” said Applejack, “An' a fine amount of grub we have, too!”

“Well, you’ve got the food handled, then,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Simon, let’s go.”

“But we haven’t eaten--”

Twilight took Simon off.

“Next up is the chimney sweeping. And who--”

Suddenly, a rainbow-maned pony wearing burberry tracksuit bottoms, hoop earrings, a golden necklace, and a burberry hat on backwards flew up to them, crashing into them.

“Oy, watch it!” she said, lighting a fag. “Name’s Rainbow Chav, wot’s it to ya?”

“Well, miss Chav, you are responsible for the chimney sweeping, yes?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

“I am,” she responded, exhaling smoke right in Twilight’s face.

Twilight Sparkle looked around. All of the chimneys were sooty, dirty, and in no way presentable to a respectable audience.

Twilight scoffed. “And a bang-up job you’re doing of it, too,” she deadpanned.

“You wot, mate?” asked Rainbow Chav, flying up into Twilight Sparkle’s face. “I’ll wager I can get these chimneys sorted right proper in under ten seconds!”

She flew around the town, grabbing a brush and sweeping out all of the chimneys in under ten seconds.

“Well bugger me sideways,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I jolly well underestimated you.”

They met Rarity next, but I don’t think that part would be any different in the British version.

“Now we have to find a doctor to give free healthcare to any ponies that are injured in the inevitable hoofball riots,” said Twilight Sparkle. She was referring to the Summer Sun Celebration hoofball game, which usually ended in rowdy youths and fans roaming through the street, burning cars and hundred-year-old department stores to the ground.

“Yes, indeed,” said Simon.

They happened across a light brown stallion in front of a blue box. As they walked by, Twilight pondered aloud, “But where will we find the doctor who--”

“I’m the doctor,” he said.

“Oh, are you? Great! Then you can treat any of the injured ponies,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“No, sorry, I’m not that sort of doctor,” he said. “Speaking of, I have an engagement in the middle ages. Ta-ta!”

He got into the blue phone box. It flashed white in and out of existence as it finally disappeared.

“What a strange fellow,” said Simon. Twilight nodded, and they continued along their way.

“Next up is the music,” said Twilight Sparkle, as they approached a yellow-coated pony with a pink mane.

“Now, I want you all to sing your best,” she said to a group of parrots. The parrots sang a rousing rendition of God Save the Queen. Except one, who lay upside-down on his perch, not singing at all.

“Nigel, you really must sing properly,” said Fluttershy, tapping him lightly on the wing. “If that’s okay with you, that is. I know you’re tired and all.”

Twilight Sparkle walked up to Fluttershy. “Excuse me, miss. I believe that particular parrot is dead.”

Fluttershy responded, “Oh? No, he’s just resting.”

“He’s expired,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“Oh, well, I guess you’re right, then,” Fluttershy conceded.

“He’s deceased. He’s an ex-parrot. He has-- wait a minute. You’re agreeing with me?” asked Twilight. “That’s not supposed to happen for another three iterations at least.”

“Well, I am rather shy,” said Fluttershy.

“And what is your name?” asked Simon.

“A dragon?” she said, gazing at him in curiosity. “Like the ones in the old Arthurian legend? The ones the ancient tomes spoke of? Could it be?”

“In the flesh,” said Simon.

“Ooh! Tell me everything about yourself,” Fluttershy implored.

“You’d bloody well better not,” said Twilight, glaring at Simon.

“Uh… I was born, I lived; someday I’ll die,” said Simon, running off.

Finally, after a long day, Simon and Twilight reached the library.

“Right then,” said Twilight, opening the door. “Time to research Nightmare--”

“Surprise!”

Twilight fell off her hooves as the pink pony from earlier rushed up to her. She smiled a mile wide, her crooked and yellow teeth glistening in the sunset.

“Isn’t this such a surprise? Innit? Innit? Innit?” the pony asked in a cockney accent. “I’m Pinkie Pie. I know everypony in Ponyborough Upon Everfree. Well, except for you, so I threw you a party!”

“Oh joy,” said Twilight Sparkle, frowning. Dozens of ponies were gathered in the library, chatting and making amicable small talk. The Rolling Pones played on the wireless. It was nothing short of a party, and Twilight would have none of it. She walked over to the table and poured what she thought was a cup of tea from a teapot, and took a sip.

“That’s curry spice,” said Pinkie Pie.

Suddenly, Twilight’s mane turned into a fiery inferno as she raced upstairs to the first storey.

“Are you ill, Twilight?” asked Simon.

“No, just miffed,” she responded. “All the ponies in this town are bonkers!”

Soon, the night of the Summer Sun Celebration was upon the town. They all waited in a queue and filed into the town hall one by one; waiting in line to get in was a time-honoured tradition and the best part of the festivities of the Summer Sun Celebration.

Once everypony was in, the mayor made an announcement.

“Fillies and gentlecolts. It is my honour to announce the beginning of the Summer Sun Celebration!”

They all applauded, but suddenly a smoky, shadowy figure appeared atop the balcony. She was a dark alicorn who wore a striped shirt, a beret upon her head, and held a cigarette in her magic.

She spoke in a thick French accent. “Ho ho ho! It has been zo long zince I have laid eyes upon jou! Ze time of reckoning iz nigh!”

All the ponies shreiked in terror.

“What? Am I a stranger to jou?” she asked.

“I know who you are,” said Twilight Sparkle. “You’re Nightmare Moon!”

“Well, well, well,” said Nightmare Moon. “At least one of jou knows. But now, ze night vill last forever!”

She disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Simon, Twilight, and her five new pony friends gathered back at the library.

“Oh, bother,” said Rarity. “How in Equestria are we going to stop her?”

“And how did you know who she was?” Rainbow Chav asked accusingly. “Are you a nark?”

“Nae danger,” said Applejack. “She somehow know a’ the shadow yin, though. How?”

“I read quite a bit,” said Twilight Sparkle. “It’s just as prophesied. The Elements of Amity should help us.”

Pinkie Pie pulled out a dictionary. “The Elements of Amity: A Reference Guide.”

“Where did you find that?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

“Where do you think?” Pinkie chuckled.

Twilight read from the book. “The six Elements of Amity are as follows: Appeasement, Bluntness, Brazenness, Mirth, Politeness, and a sixth element which has never been revealed. They are said to be hidden in the palace of the royal pony sisters in--”

Twilight walked out the door, the other ponies following her.

Finally, she spoke. ‘--The Everfree Forest.”

“Did you really hafta wait so long to say that?” asked Rainbow Chav.

“Yes,” answered Twilight Sparkle.

“Well then. Let’s get on with it, shall we?” asked Fluttershy.

“Not you, Simon,” said Twilight, holding up her hoof to stop the dragon. “It’s too dangerous for a young drake like yourself.”

“What? That’s rubbish. I’m sixteen years old,” said Simon.

“Oh, you are? Guess you’re an adult, then,” said Twilight. “Carry on.”

The six ponies and dragon walked into the Everfree forest.

“So what is this place, exactly?” asked Twilight as they walked.

“Oh, it’s absolutely dreadful,” said Rarity. “It runs off of its own rules. Ponies jump in queues, they walk on the right side of the footpath and roads, and they have teatime at a quarter past four rather than the hour itself!"

Everypony gasped collectively.

“What a horrible place,” said Fluttershy.

“Aye,” said Applejack.

Suddenly, as they walked, they reached a cliff which collapsed around them. The ponies all fell down except Applejack; the two pegasi grabbed Pinkie and Rarity. But that left Twilight hanging.

“No!” cried Twilight as she ended up hanging from the cliff. She struggled to get back up.

“Applejack! Come help me!” she cried.

Applejack chuckled. “Ye cannae jus’ use yer levitation spell on yerself?“ she asked.

“Oh, I suppose I can,” said Twilight, powering up her horn as a purple glow enveloped her body, taking her back up to the cliff.

“Why, thanks for being so blunt, Applejack,” she said. “Had I not done that, I would have had to bother one of the pegasi to come save me.”

The six ponies and one dragon continued along the path. Soon, however, a giant lion beast with a scorpion tail jumped into the path.

“Run away!” the ponies cried. All except Fluttershy. She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a parchment and two quills. The other ponies looked at her quizzically as she spoke to the manticore.

A few minutes later, they briefly glanced the manticore grab a quill in his paw and sign the document. Then, Fluttershy she came back with a parchment..

“I have spoken to the manticore, Manny Roar. And here is the paper which bears his name upon it as well as mine. He has allowed us to pass, and we shall have peace in our time.”

“Jolly good appeasement job, Fluttershy!” said Twilight Sparkle. The ponies walked right past the manticore. But then, predictably, he broke the treaty, and dashed after the ponies.

“Run away!”

They all sprinted.

“Here, in these trees!” cried Rainbow Chav.

They dashed into a thick grove of trees which the manticore could not navigate through. However, they soon saw faces in the trees. They were ghastly apparitions. Wooden splinters made them look like they had eyes and hungry mouths.

“Aaaah!” they all cried. Except for Pinkie Pie, who simply laughed.

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “Always look on the bright side of life!”

She sang a song with those lyrics.

“That was dreadful. Absolutely dreadful,” said Simon. “Your singing voice is like nasally, high-pitched, and like daggers in my ears.”

“But that was a good demonstration of mirth, Pinkie,” said Twilight.

“Quite right,” said Fluttershy.

Eventually, they reached a raging and thrashing river. Inside, a sea serpent wearing a top hat and a monocle thrashed around, causing a terrible current.

“What a world!” he cried.

“It’s Nessie!” cried Applejack. “Make a run fer it!”

“What’s the matter?” asked Twilight.

“My fabulous moustache,” said the serpent. “It’s ruined! Now my colleagues will look upon me with disdain!”

“Yeah they will,” said Rainbow Chav.

“Mmhmm,” laughed Pinkie.

“Ahem!” said Rarity. “That’s no way to be. You all must be polite. Mister serpent, I believe that you still look rather smashing regardless of what the others say.”

“Why, thank you, miss,” said Stephen Magnet. “You may cross.”

Rarity jumped on his back and hopped across. The others tried to, but he held up his claw.

“Not you,” he said.

“Oh, bollocks,” said Pinkie.

“It’s fine,” said Rainbow Chav. “I can carry us all over.”

So, Rainbow flew them all across the river one by one, and they were on their way.

Soon, they reached the rope bridge. A solitary, shadowy figure stood in front of it.

“None shall pass,” he said.

“What do we do?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

“I dunnae know,” said Applejack.

“Give 'im some sweets!” said Pinkie.

“None shall pass!” he repeated.

“You wot, mate? I’m not scared of you,” Rainbow Chav said. She grabbed her knife from her burberry tracksuit bottoms and stabbed the dark pony right in his leg. His shadowy limb disintegrated into nothingness.

“Now get out of the way,” said Rainbow Chav.

“It’s just a flesh wound!” he cried.

Rainbow Chav turned around and bucked him square in the jaw, and he disintegrated into nothingness.

“Hmm. That’s odd,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“He seemed to've been made entirely of shadow,” said Fluttershy.

“Good thing you were so brazen, or else we would never have figured that out,” said Twilight.

They continued on until they reached the castle.

“I don’t understand. Where are the elements?” asked Twilight Sparkle. “There’s only five here.”

“Jou fools!” said Nightmare Moon. “I’ve heeden ze elements from jou!”

“D'ya figure we’re the elements?” asked Applejack.

“Right-o!” said Fluttershy.

“Of course!” said Twilight.

The elements swirled around them as each was revealed.

Twilight spoke, “Applejack is the spirit of bluntness, Rainbow Chav is the spirit of brazenness, Pinkie is the spirit of mirth, Fluttershy is the spirit of appeasement, and Rarity is the spirit of politeness. The spirits of Christmas past and Christmas present are unavailable. And I…”

They all floated up into the air.

“...I am the spirit of sarcasm!”

A rainbow beam shot out of the ponies and towards Nightmare Moon.

“Le Noooooo!” cried the dark alicorn as the rainbows swirled around her and she was transformed back into Luna.

“We did it!” cried Pinkie.

"Bloody'ell we did!" cried Rainbow Dash.

"Smashing!" cried Rarity.

“Hooray!” cried Twilight.

“Aye!” cried Applejack.

“Ah, Queen Luna. Are you prepared to surrender?” asked Queen Celestia, who just appeared on the scene.

“Well jes, I zuppose,” said Luna. “I am French, after all.”

“Hooray!” they all exclaimed.

Author's Note

Americans, I hope you got all the jokes. Britons, I hope that I didn't mess anything up about your culture.

Thanks for reading.

The Ticket Monger

“Thankee much fer helpin’ me with the apples, Twilight,” said Applejack. The two ponies walked through the orchard, carrying sacks of apples on their backs.

“No problem, Applejack. Always eager to lend a hoof to the muggles. I’m trying to train up my magic by using telekinetic grab over and over again, anyway,” Twilight responded.

“Whyna you jus’ teleport to Canterlot over an’ over?” asked Applejack. "It's faster."

“That’s a good--”

“BELCH!”

A fiery scroll emerged from Simon’s mouth.

“What’s all this, then?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

Simon opened the scroll and read.

“Hear ye, hear ye. Queen Celestia the Second is holding the Grand Galloping Gala in Canterlot next month, on November the 5th. Enclosed are two tickets. Twilight, as you are my personal student, one ticket is for you. You may bring along a single friend.

“Oh, joy,” said Twilight Sparkle, rolling her eyes.

“Not the Gala again,” said Simon. “You can take somepony else besides me. Last time I went, I nearly fell asleep during the Queen’s hour-long speech.”

“But I have to bring a friend,” said Twilight Sparkle, “or else I won’t make it through, either.”

She turned to Applejack.

“Applejack, would you care to attend the Gala with me?”

“Nae danger,” said Applejack, drawing back. “I hafta harvest all these apples, an’ me gran needs a new wheelchair an’ crutches, an’ Big Mackintosh an’ I are attendin’ a hoofball game that very day! Besides, I cannae afford an expensive dress, an’ they won’t let me wear me kilt in there!”

“But… but think of all the shillings you could make by selling apples!” Twilight Sparkle implored.

Applejack chuckled. “Sellin’ apples at a gala? Are ye mad?”

“You have to come; I implore you,” said Twilight Sparkle, getting on her knees and clasping her hooves together. “The Queen’s social functions are insufferably boring. Without the magic of amity, I could never survive it!”

“Aye,” said Applejack, “so give the extra ticket to somepony else, then.”

Twilight sighed. “Very well then, I suppose.”

Up in the trees, they noticed Rainbow Chav taking a nap.

“Rainbow Chav!” shouted Twilight Sparkle.

“Wot?” said Rainbow Chav, waking up. “You tosser! You bloody interrupted an amazing dream I was havin’!”

“My apologies,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Would you care to attend the Grand Galloping Gala with me?”

“Attend the Grand Galloping Gala?” asked Rainbow Chav. “When is it?”

“It’s the fifth next month,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“Oh? Well I have plans, sorry,” said Rainbow Chav.

“Plans?” Twilight asked. “Such as?”

“I’ll be drinkin’ at the pub with me blokes that evenin’, gettin’ pissed,” said Rainbow Chav.

“But you do that every evening,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“Well, then why break tradition?” asked Rainbow Chav, lighting up a fag.

“There’s free alcohol,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“Oh really?” Rainbow’s eyes widened.

“Indeed,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Wine, champagne, scotch…”

“Only touch vodka and beer meself,” said Rainbow Chav. “Sorry.”

“Oh, bother,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Come hither, Simon. Let’s go see if anypony else would care to attend this horrid gathering with me.”

Simon got on Twilight Sparkle’s back, and they rode off into the town of Ponyborough Upon Everfree to see if anypony would attend the Gala with them.

Twilight Sparkle reached her hoof up to the door of Fluttershy’s cottage and knocked. Fluttershy came to the door and answered.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Fluttershy, would you like to attend the Grand Galloping Gala with me?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

“The Grand Galloping Gala? What’s that?” asked Fluttershy.

“It’s a quiet, respectable event. Also there’s a garden with quiet butterflies, mice, and other low-volume animals,” said Twilight.

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” said Fluttershy. “When is it?”

“November the 5th.”

Fluttersy blushed. “Oh, bother. I’m dreadfully sorry, Twilight, but I have a cricket match to attend that evening.”

“A cricket match?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

“Yes. Two of my pugilist crickets are having a boxing match, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Fluttershy. Two small crickets wearing boxing gloves hopped out of her cottage, down the steps, and for their daily jog.

“Can’t you ask them to reshedule?” asked Twilight.

“Hmm… I suppose I could. But I don’t want to take a ticket if somepony else wants to go. I don’t want to be rude.”

“No, no, I insist,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“Oh, it’s alright,” said Fluttershy. “Really, I’m sure there’s plenty of other ponies who want to go more than I do, and I’d hate to deprive them.”

Twilight Sparkle placed her face in her hoof and shook her head.

“Come, Simon. Let’s go ask Pinkie.”

Twilight Sparkle and Simon walked through the front door of Sugarcube Corner.

Twilight Sparkle asked, “Pinkie Pie, would you care to--”

Pinkie Pie snatched the golden ticket out of Simon’s claw before Twilight had a chance to finish speaking. She smiled a crooked, yellow grin.

“Would I? O’course I would! A golden ticket to tour Celestia’s cholocate factory and eat all the sweets I want? Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Twilight Sparkle and Simon blinked for a few moments.

“No, actually, this is a ticket for the Grand Galloping Gala,” said Simon.

“Oh. Well ‘ave it back, then, guvnah. That Gala is booooooooooring, from what I ‘ear.”

Pinkie Pie hoofed the ticket back to Simon. Twilight Sparkle rolled her eyes.

She said, “Oh, fine. Let’s go get something to eat, Simon. I’m quite famished.”

Simon and Twilight Sparkle went to the local restaurant, where they sat down to order.

“I just don’t know about this whole situation, Simon,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“What don’t you know?” asked Simon, right as the waiter walked up to the table.

“Well, all four of my friends are busy.”

“Don’t you have a fifth friend?” asked Simon. "A gorgeous white unicorn of some variety?"

“I think so, but I can’t quite recall her name at the moment,” said Twilight. “I just need to find somepony to give this ticket to. But who? Who? WHO?”

“You called?”

Twilight and Simon looked around and saw the brown stallion with the spiky mane that they had met once before. He grinned at them.

“Aren’t you that doctor fellow that I met at the Summer Sun Celebration? The one who doesn’t actually practice medicine?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

“Indeed,” he said, adjusting his tie.

“Would you care to attend the Grand Galloping Gala with me?” asked Twilight, floating a ticket over to him.

“Sure,” he said, taking the ticket in his hoof, holding it up to his eyes, and examining it.

“Jolly good!” exclaimed Twilight Sparkle.

The Doctor scanned the ticket, furrowing his eyebrows. “The fifth of November? Why does that date sound so familiar?” he asked.

Twilight groaned. “What, do you have work or another social engagement on that day, as well?”

“No, I’m quite available. I’m unemployed and have but one friend in the galaxy,” he said. “No… this date. Oh, that’s right! What’s that rhyme again? Remember, remember, the fifth of Novemb--”

The colour drained from his face and he dropped the ticket to the ground. Seemingly an eternity later, he spoke.

“Sorry. I absolutely can not. It might disrupt the timeline were I to interfere.”

The Doctor dashed off towards his blue box, got in, and it disappeared.

“Such a strange bloke,” said Simon.

“Quite,” said Twilight.

“Ahem. Are you ready to order?” asked the waiter, who was still standing right next to their table, tapping his hoof.

“Oh, sorry,” said Twilight. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Five minutes,” he said, furrowing his brow.

“You could’ve left and come back,” said Simon.

“Well, I didn’t,” he responded.

“Sorry, but you have no one to blame your excessive patience on but yourself,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Now, what’s on the menu for today?”

The waiter cleared his throat. “Well, there’s eggs, daffodils, and hay; eggs, scones, muffins, daffodils, and hay; hay, daffodils, muffins, and hay; hay, hay, scones, eggs, and hay; and hay, hay, hay, hay, muffins, and hay.”

“Do you have anything without hay?” asked Twilight.

“Well... eggs, daffodils, and hay only has a little bit of hay,” said the waiter.

“Can I get that without the hay?” asked Twilight.

“What?” the waiter asked, his jaw agape. “How can you get the eggs, daffodils, and hay without the hay?”

“I don’t like hay!” Twilight yelled.

“It’s alright, Twilight; I’ll take your hay,” said Simon. “As for me, I’ll take the hay, hay, hay, hay, muffins, and hay.”

The waiter jotted down the order and walked back inside. As he walked, he passed by a cream-coated earth pony with a blond mane wearing a chef’s coat.

“What a dreadful rest’runt,” the pony said in a Scottish accent. “All they serve here is hay. My food took an hour to get here. And don’t even get me started on the kitchen.”

After they departed the restaurant, having finished their meal of mostly hay, Twilight Sparkle jumped up in the air, a gaslight lamp appearing above her head.

“Rarity!” Twilight exclaimed.

“I’ll say it is,” said Simon. “You’d get struck by lightning before finding a pony to take your ticket.”

“No, Simon. Rarity. The name of my fifth friend! And your secret crush that’s about as blatant as a double-decker bus!”

“Oh, right,” said Simon.

“The Grand Galloping Gala!?” asked Rarity. “Why, I’d love to go there! Oh, all the nobles and royalty and fashionistas all in one place? I’d die a happy mare!”

“No happiness allowed, I’m afraid,” said Twilight Sparkle. “If you go, you shall have to maintain a stiff upper lip the entire time.”

“Oh, I shall, darling,” Rarity promised. “But I’d hate to take the ticket from another pony who wants to go more than I do. I must therefore politely decline.”

Twilight Sparkle glared at Rarity. “No. Nopony else wants to go but you.”

“Oh, well then in that case, off we go then! I only wish that I could take Sweetie Belle along with me. Show her what high society is.”

“Here, you can have my ticket. Wingardium leviosa,” said Twilight Sparkle as she levitated the ticket over to Rarity.

“Wingardium leviosa,” said Rarity, levitating it back. “You obviously want to go. I'm already burdening you enough by taking your spare ticket.”

“Wingardium leviosa!” said Twilight Sparkle.

“Wingardium leviosa!”

Eventually, the polite stand-off ended with Rarity and Sweetie Belle having both tickets.

“Simon, write a letter, please.”

The dragon obliged.

“Dear Queen Celestia. I learned something about friendship and generosity today. I gave both my tickets to Rarity and her sister, because I wanted to be generous. So, I politely regret to inform you that I shall not be attending. Sincerely, Twilight Sparkle.”

Simon breathed fire on the letter, and it disappeared.

“Glad that whole sticky wicket is over with,” said Twilight Sparkle. "Now I don't have to go."

“BURP!”

A scroll emerged from Simon’s mouth. He opened it, and read aloud.

“Dear Twilight Sparkle. Your generosity and politeness will get you far in life. As a reward, here is an additional ticket. See you at the gala! Sincerely, Queen Celestia.”

Simon smirked at Twilight.

“Oh, bollocks,” she groaned.

Author's Note

If anyone gets the RuneScape reference, I'll be shocked.

Pure Blood Boasters

Twilight Sparkle and Simon stood inside of Twilight’s tree house.

“Oh, sure you’re going to make a moustache appear on me, Twilight,” Simon chuckled. “By the way, how’s that whole sex-change spell progressing, then?”

Twilight responded, “But those are impossible.”

“My point entirely,” Simon nodded.

Twilight Sparkle gasped, stepping back.

“Why, I never! I’ll sure show you, you wanker!”

She powered up her horn and fired a magical beam at Simon. Suddenly, a twirly moustache, a top hat, and a monocle all appeared on Simon’s head.

Simon blinked several times in disbelief, then took his claw and stroked his moustache with it, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well stone the crows. You actually did it! And a jolly good show, that. My, I look smashing! Why, the hairs are all trimmed to precisely the same length, and—”

Twilight’s horn powered up again, and then Simon’s moustache disappeared.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Twilight, grinning deviously. “But I thought you said it’s impossible to make a moustache appear.”

“Well... it might be impossible, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done,” Simon conceded, blushing.

“That’s exactly what impossible means,” said Twilight.

“Is not,” said Simon.

“Is so,” Twilight insisted.

Simon scratched the back of his head. “Erm… oh, bollocks. Yes, I suppose it is possible. Now can I please have the moustache back?”

He got on his hands and knees and pleaded with Twilight.

“Please? Pleeeease? I’ll be your best friend!”

She chuckled. “Perhaps some other time. Today we need to go to the travelling funfair, remember?”

“Oh, that’s correct,” said Simon. “I almost forgot.”

Twilight Sparkle and Simon walked outside and into Ponyborough Upon Everfree, where all of the ponies queued around the block for miles to get into the Ponyborough Upon Everfree fair. One of the ponies jumped in the queue, but he was tarred and feathered.

After just a few short days of waiting in the queue, Twilight and Simon finally got in. And it was worth the wait. There was fish and chips, marmite-flavoured candyfloss, fried crumpets, funnel figgy pudding, gypsy tart (sold by actual gypsies), Equish muffins, and candied haggis.

There were booths and all sorts of whimsical travelling funfair games such as hotel room trashing, do-it-yourself dental work, asking paper duck targets politely if they’d be so kind as to fall over, pinning a tail on a real-life donkey and then laughing at him, and flying a kite up to the highest height. And, of course, the funnest game of all: waiting in a queue to play the games themselves.

There was also a crowd of ponies doing a Morris dance.

“Look at this!” said Rainbow Chav, smoking a long, golden-brown stick. “They got fried fags ‘ere!”

“And all manner of sweets!” said Pinkie Pie, chewing on candy as one of her last remaining teeth cracked.

“Aye, it’s the food of ma people!” said Applejack, taking a bite of candied haggis.

“Why, I could never eat such unhealthful rubbish,” said Rarity. “It would all go to my thighs, regardless.”

“Nae danger, ye numpty,” said Applejack. “What do ye think this is, Amareica? We dinnae get fat here.”

Come to think of it, why aren’t there any obese or overweight ponies on the show, anyway? I think that’s fat-shaming, and will file a lawsuit. Also, Equestria Girls and Flash Sentry needs a trigger warning for waifu stealing. Yes, this story now makes fun of America, too.

Simon and Twilight walked along, and they saw one of the games: a target shooting booth with French targets such as Naponean Ponaparte holding up white flags.

“Step roight up, step roight up!” a barker called. Twilight Sparkle and Simon stopped, walking over to the booth.

“See if you can ‘it the targets, there,” he said, pointing with his hoof to the targets. “Just one shilling to play, and if you knock ‘em all over from behoind that loine, you get a proize!”

“Very well, then,” said Twilight Sparkle. She reached into her purse and pulled out a shilling, giving it to the barker.

“Now then,” said the barker, reaching for the air rifle, “‘Ere you go—”

But before he could give her the rifle, Twilight had knocked over all the targets with her telekinesis.

“Wot!?” the barker exclaimed. “You was supposed to shoot the targets, not use magic!”

“You never specified,” said Twilight.

“Uh…” the barker started. “Well, I suppose I didn’t, then. But it’s still a ruddy thing to do, you know!”

“Where’s my prize?” asked Twilight.

“You don’t get one!” the Barker snapped.

“Oh, don’t I?” asked Twilight, raising an eyebrow. “I only did what you said.”

“You cheated! You did wot I said, but not wot I meant to—”

“Look, look, look,” said Simon, stepping in between the two ponies. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll shoot the targets for her. I do have hands, after all.”

“You’d better ‘it them all, or she don’t get a proize!” the barker scoffed, handing Simon the rifle.

Simon gulped, steadying the rifle in his claw, pointing it at the target and staring down the sights. Before he could pull the trigger, however, a policestallion walked up.

“Oy!”

Simon looked up.

“Possession of a firearm? That’s illegal in this country!” the bobby exclaimed.

“Please, look, I can explain—” Simon started.

“Yes, yes, yes. Tell it to the magistrate!” the officer interrupted, grabbing his hoofcuffs from his pocket and getting out his truncheon.

“Flee!” Twilight Sparkle cried, grabbing Simon. He got on her back and she ran, as Yakety Sax began to play.

They ran down the street, weaving in and out of the booths, the policestallion on their tail. Twilight rounded a corner around a tent, hiding behind it. But the bobby was too clever for such a ruse, and turned around to chase them. Twilight teleported off, but at this point in the series she hadn’t yet gotten the skill down pat, so only ended up a few metres behind the bobby. He turned around and continued his pursuit.

Twilight continued to run, dashing down the main thoroughfare as she saw a giant stage set up for the fair. Near the back of the stage, they saw a sign that said “Dressing Room” on it. Twilight dashed in, shut the door behind her, and locked it. The bobby knocked at the door, pounding on it.

“Quick, Simon, we have to get a disguise!”

Simon and Twilight frantically looked through the dressers until they found some fair performer clothes. They put them on.

“He’ll never recognise us in these!” said Simon, a brown patchwork vest and a white shirt on his body and a straw boater atop his head.

“Indeed,” said Twilight, wearing the same.

They walked out of the dressing room wearing the clothes, and sure enough, the bobby didn’t recognise them. However, as they walked along, one of the other performers saw them and pulled them aside.

“There you are! Come, the show is about to begin!”

“Wait, what show—” Twilight started, but she soon found herself pushed onto the stage along with Simon and dozens more performers.

“Just sing along; you’ll know the words instantly,” said the performer.

He tossed them each a horseshoe. They sang a song which sounded like but was certainly not the song “Me Ol’ Bamboo” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang itself, since it’s against the rules to post copyrighted lyrics.

“A lady wears her nice high heels,
and pirates have peg hooves.
And sprinters in the marathon
they wear their runners, too.
Under Spanish manes and tails it’s plain
they wear their zapatos.
But we make do with our old horseshoes;
they’re rusty metal fun!
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - Hey!

Me ol’ horseshoe, me ol’ horseshoe
You’d better bother with me ol’ horseshoe.
You can have me saddle or me mule,
but you’d better never bother with me ol’ horseshoe.”

They all tossed their horseshoes to each other, and then to Twilight, who juggled them all in her telekinesis. The crowd cheered at this display. Then, she tossed the horseshoes back to everypony.

The chorus sang, “When walking down the sandy beach?”

“You put on your flip flops,” Twilight responded.

“And when it’s time to go to sleep?” the chorus sang.

“Then get some slippers on,” sang Simon.

“In laboratories you might need?” sang the chorus.

“Some rubber boots to wear,” sang Twilight and Simon.

“Right!” sang the chorus.

Then they all sang,

“But what we do with our old horseshoes
Makes everyone hurrah!”
1 - 2 - 3 - HO!

Me ol’ horseshoe, and not bamboo.
No copyright: I pulled it out of my wazoo.
Everyone knows parody’s fair use.
I hope the mods agree with me or I’ll be banned, too.”

They all took a bow. Ponies threw shillings at them, and Twilight and Simon took off their hats to catch the money.

“I say, how in the world did we know all of those lyrics?” asked Simon.

“Well, it certainly isn’t because they’re copyrighted,” said Twilight. “As you can see, this song was an original creation which we made up on the spot.”

“Right-o,” said Simon.

Suddenly, a puff of smoke appeared as a blue unicorn ran onto the stage.

“Greetings, mud-bloods! I am ze great and powerful Lord Trixiemort! Heil!” she spoke in a German accent.

“We saw that ye dinnae actually teleport, ye know,” said Applejack.

Trixie blushed. “Uh, no, zat’s because I apparated. Zere’s a difference. Now, as I vas saying, I am a pure-blooded unicornmensch, unlike all of you mud-bloods and muggles—”

“Can you sing a song like they just did, as well?” Pinkie asked.

Trixie frowned. “No, but zat’s not important! I’m here to demand zat you submit to your new pure-blood overlords—”

“But without an evil villain song? No showtune? Do you know nothing of showponyship?” asked Rarity.

“You really do need to sing some sort of song to introduce yourself,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“No!” exclaimed Lord Trixiemort, stomping her hoof on the ground as lightning struck in the air behind her. “No merriment! No makings of music!”

“Then no submission,” said Rainbow Chav, condescendingly blowing smoke from her fried fag into the air. “It took a bloody good song to even make us throw our shillings; you’d better believe we’ll only submit to the master race after a propa musical. Nuff said.”

Trixiemort scowled, bearing her teeth. “Shut up, you hippogriff!”

“You wot, mate?” demanded Rainbow Chav, flying up to Trixiemort and staring her straight in the face.

“Avada KedavrAAAAAAHHHH!”

Unable to cast her spell, Lord Trixiemort screamed as Rainbow Chav’s dagger pierced her side. However, she did not bleed red blood, but rather mud.

“That’s ironic, innit?” laughed Pinkie Pie. “The so-called ‘pure-blood’ is actually a mud-blood ‘erself!”

The paramedics arrived two hours later and carted Lord Trixiemort off to hospital, but she bled out and died in the five hours she had to wait in the emergency room queue before seeing a doctor, since they were all busy having socialized teatime.

“Simon, take a letter,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Dear Queen Celestia the Second. Today I learned that if a pony is to be taken seriously as a proper villain, they really must sing a song declaring their evil intentions to all the world. Also, my friends and I had quite a fun time waiting in queues today. Though I can’t say the same for Lord Trixiemort, since she is now deceased. Sincerely, Twilight Sparkle.”

Unfortunately, little did Twilight know that Lord Trixiemort didn’t die permanently, because she still had seven horcruxes left.

Author's Note

Did you know that on Harry Potter 7's release night, the queues at British bookstores were so long, they actually were visible from space? In America they were shorter, because everyone kept shooting the person in front of them in line. Thankfully no one died, because their fat cushioned their internal organs from the bullets.

Want to read an entire story-length parody of a classic British musical? Check out Mary Poppins Pony Parody, which has ponified parodies of all the songs such as "Spoonful of Sugar" and "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

Which episode should I Britishify next? Let me know in the comments!

A Christmas Mareol

The mane six piled into a train as it carried them off towards Canterlot.

“So, we’re going to be acting in a very special Christmas play today,” said Twilight Sparkle expositioningly.

“Ooh, I can’t wait! I’ve been practicin’ me actin’ all year!” Pinkie exclaimed, jumping up and down in her seat, her crooked teeth showing as she grinned.

“And I know that we’ll look just smashing in our costumes,” said Rarity, rubbing her hooves together expectantly.

“I know that I’ve been gettin’ in character all week,” said Rainbow Chav.

“Aye. Ye already fit the part so perfectly, no need to rehearse,” Applejack scoffed.

“You wot mate?” asked Rainbow Chav, flying out of her seat and into Applejack’s face. “Are you saying that I’m normally an aggro tosser who don’t get along with nobody?”

“Aye,” said Applejack, coughing as Rainbow blew smoke into her face.

“Girls, please,” said Fluttershy, getting in between the two of them. “Applejack, you know what a huge complex Rainbow Chav has about taking off her burberry tracksuit trousers and hat even for just a moment. I think she’s very brave taking on this role. And Rainbow Chav, I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke on a train anymore.”

“Wot?” asked Rainbow Chav, carelessly puffing away.

“Yes, it’s quite illegal,” said Twilight, ripping the fag away with her magic. “Only the parliament, the royal family, and Sherclop Holmes can smoke indoors anymore since they’re better than us common proles and carved themselves an exemption in the law.”

“Bollocks,” said Rainbow Chav, folding her arms begrudgingly as Pinkie Pie offered her a piece of nicotine Turkish delight to chew on.

“I just hope that I don’t flub my lines. Oh, goodness, I’m so nervous!” exclaimed Fluttershy.

“Ahem,” a certain purple dragon spoke. The six ponies turned towards him.

“Why can’t I act in the play?” he whined.

“Because you’re a lad, Simon. This is a traditional Shakesponean play, meaning that all parts must be played by mares. Even the stallions are played by mares in drag,” explained Twilight Sparkle.

“And it’s utterly ridiculous,” Simon said.

“Also because you’re a dragon,” said Rainbow Chav.

“Cheer up, Simon. At least you get to narrate it,” said Fluttershy, patting Simon on the head consolingly.

The train came to a stop at platform nine and three hindquarters in Canterlot, and the ponies plus Simon disembarked and headed for the theatre.

All the ponies in the audience sat expectantly, chattering amongst themselves as the six ponies plus the other players all got into costume behind the curtain.

Rarity meticulously fastened every button and smoothed out every wrinkle of the complicated costumes. She levitated them over to each of the players, and they each put them on. All except for Rainbow Chav, who couldn’t put on the overcoat, cane, and top hat which made up her costume.

“Get on with it, then,” Twilight Sparkle groaned, glaring at Rainbow Chav.

A single tear ran down Rainbow Chav’s face as she begrudgingly removed her burberry hat from atop her head. She hadn’t removed it even a single time for over three months.

Her greasy, rainbow mane that she hadn’t washed in ages shimmered under the stage can lights, and the stench that arose from under her hat was so foul that ponies started falling to the floor around her left and right.

“Good Celestia, Rainbow Chav! That smell is simply ghastly!” Rarity exclaimed, nearly fainting. Thankfully, she was a unicorn, so could pinch her nose with magic, but the others had only their hooves, so were out of luck and had to endure the stink.

“Put your hat on at once!” Fluttershy cried, tears forming in her eyes.

“Aye!” Applejack cried, taking her Tam o’ Shanter off her head and putting it over her nose as a makeshift gas mask.

“Oh, come now, it’s not that bad,” said Rainbow Chav. She glanced down at the top hat. It was like something an old grey stallion would wear, and not at all something for a smashing, fashionable chav like herself--

“PUT YER ‘AT ON!” the players all commanded. Chav rolled her eyes, and begrudgingly donned the top hat.

“Stage time, ladies,” said Simon. The ponies all assumed their positions as Simon walked outside of the curtain and addressed the crowd.

“Fillies and gentlecolts. Today, we shall tell the story of how Equestria was first founded. Believe it or not, the three races of ponies didn’t always live in harmony. Our Kingdom was not always united. Instead, there were three smaller countries.

“The unicorns had the nation of Spells.”

The curtain rose to show a group of unicorns herding goats and casting ice spells against a raging cardboard dragon, then fell again.

“The earth ponies had the nation of Scoffland.”

The curtain rose to show a group of earth ponies playing bagpipes and farming the fields, and being overly dismissive towards everything in sight, then fell again.

“And the pegasi had the nation of Wingland.”

The curtain rose to show a bunch of Pegasi flying around in suits of armour attacking all of their neighbours, and then fell again.

“Also, the crystal ponies had the nation of Northern Sapphireland, but that wasn’t part of Equestria until after this story. Anyway, all of these nations lived apart and had their own languages other than Winglish. That is, until they joined forces to stop a rather rude and impolite pony.”

The curtain rose once more to show Rainbow Chav, who was wearing her top hat and overcoat. She sat inside of an office, holding a feather pen in her mouth as she worked on some paperwork.

“Meet Featherneezer Coop. She was the meanest-spirited pony around, and made her employees work even on Christmas Eve.”

“Uh, miss Coop? I know that we have a lot of work to do, but can I please go home and see my family and my crippled son?” asked Fluttershy, who was playing Cratchit.

“Bah humbug!” said Rainbow Chav, glancing only briefly up from her paper as she returned to her writing.

Suddenly, the tip of her feather pen snapped in half.

“Cratchit! Get over here!” Featherneezer demanded. Cratchit obliged, and Featherneezer pulled out one of Cratchit’s feathers.

“Ouch!” Fluttershy squealed. Coop frowned at her and she returned to her desk.

“I never let ponies have the day off!” Featherneezer exclaimed, dipping the yellow feather into the ink and continuing to write.

“But tomorrow is Christmas!” Cratchit implored.

Coop rolled her eyes. “Fine. You can have tomorrow off, but I expect you to work double hours the day after to make up for it!”

Cratchitt smiled. “Thank you so much, ma’am!” she said, hugging Coop.

Coop pushed her away. “Get out of here before I change my mind!”

“Right away, ma’am,” said Cratchitt, scurrying out the door.

“Humbug,” said Featherneezer. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. She walked over and answered to find some ponies collecting money for charity.

“Charity? Are there no poorhouses?” Coop laughed, slamming the door shut as the curtain fell.

“Little did Coop know that she was about to be in for a big surprise. Cratchitt was visiting with her family in Spells and had told them all about the situation.”

Rarity, who was playing Cratchitt’s sister-in-law, sat at a table with Cratchitt and Applejack, who was playing Cratchitt’s other sister-in-law.

“I say, Cratchitt. Why do we never get to visit you in Wingland?” asked Rarity.

“Aye. We always have Christmas dinner in Scoffland or Spells, but nae ever in Wingland.”

“Well, it’s because of my boss, Featherneezer Coop. She’s such a meanie! She only likes pegasi, and hates earth ponies and unicorns, so they could never set hoof in Wingland. Otherwise, she’d throw apples at them until they left. Also, she hates Christmas, so would probably rip down all my decorations. Actually, I think she just hates everything, full stop.”

“Hah, I’d like to see her try to kick me out,” said Applejack.

“Quite. You really shouldn’t put up with her, Cratchitt. We ought to teach her a lesson!” said Rarity.

"And so it was that the three family members conspired to put the mean old Featherneezer Coop in her place. We join her on Christmas Eve in her flat as she is eating a bowl of goop.”

Featherneezer was eating a bowl of goop, putting the spoon in her mouth with all the enthusiasm of a foal eating spinach. Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

No answer.

“Who is it?”

No answer again.

“Cooooop…” a voice said.

“If it’s carolers, I’m not amused!” she said. Suddenly, a glowing green pony floated right through the door, carrying chains.

“Who are you?” asked Coop.

It was Rarity, who was using magic to disguise herself as a ghost.

“Coooop… It’s me, your old business partner.”

“You wot, mate?” asked Featherneezer. “I never partnered with anypony else, particularly with a hornhead unicorn like you. Whatever this ruse is, it’s none too clever.”

“Uh…” said the ghost. Then she muttered. “Bollocks. Cratchit said that you had a partner.”

“Oh, did she?” asked Coop. “Well, I always talk about how I’m such a brilliant businessmare that I’m the equivalent of two ponies. My partner is me. "That featherbrain Cratchitt was probably confused.”

She grabbed a mirror and stroked her rainbow mane in it, smiling at herself. Then, she put her two hooves together and shook them up and down.

"It's a pleasure doing business with me!"

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Well, regardless, you will be visited by three spirits this evening, just like me,” Rarity said.

“Oh, you mean three ponies dressed up in costumes like yours, then? Ones that are about as convincing as a paper bag?”

“Uh… I’m not a pony; I’m a ghooooost! Wooooo!”

“Pfft,” said Coop. “Send your ponies already.”

“Ghosts,” Rarity corrected.

"And so it was that Coop’s old business partner left. The next day, Coop was visited by another 'ghost.'"

Applejack walked over, dressed as a ghost.

“I’m the ghost of Christmas Earth Pony,” said Applejack.

“No, you’re just an earth pony wearing a white sheet,” said Coop, pulling the sheet off of Applejack.

“Bloody hell,” Applejack said, her true identity revealed.

“Listen, I don’t have all day,” Coop scoffed. “I already know what Cratchitt’s put you up to. You’re going to all come and try to convince me to keep the spirit of Christmas in me heart and to love all three races of ponies and not to litter and look both ways before I cross the street. Aren’t you?”

“Aye,” said Applejack, looking down at the ground, embarrassed at her identity being revealed.

“Well it’s not going to work!” Coop exclaimed, stomping her hoof into the ground. “I say bah humbug to Christmas. Christmas is an over-commercialized holiday that comes much too earlier and earlier every year, overstays its welcome for months and leaves neither pound nor pence in your pocket. The stores all crowd with masses of ponies and one has to wait in a queue for seven hours instead of the usual five just to buy some over-priced poppycock.”

Applejack blinked, not saying anything.

“Your in-laws all invite themselves to stay at your flat, and then you’re expected to take off work to go do things with them, as if you haven’t got a life of your own. And then they mooch off of you and ask you for money because they’re all worthless spendthrifts who never bothered to put a single pound in the bank, instead opting to spend it all at the pub.”

Applejack stared down at the floor.

“Also, there’s only about ten bloody Christmas songs that ever play on the radio, and by the time when December 25th rolls around you’re so sick and tired of them that you want to piece your own eardrums with a lightning bolt. And don’t get me started on picking out a ruddy tree. Sap gets everywhere, and the pine needles stay in your carpet for months. I’d get a plastic one but then I’m sure you do-gooder ‘ghosts’ would chide me when it inevitably ends up in a landfill somewhere.”

Applejack opened her mouth to speak, but Coop continued, “I’m not finished! And that’s another thing. I know you 'ghost' types well enough. You were going to tell me that if I don’t play nice and kiss up to Christmas, I’m going to die and end up dead just like you pretend to be. What exactly was supposed to kill me, anyway? My black heart? Or were you going to off me yourselves? So being a murderer is preferable to not liking the worst holiday of them all?”

"Nae, we were only gonnae--"

"Shut your stupid Scoffish mouth. You want to know why I don't like earth ponies or unicorns? Because of your languages. Scoffish and Spelsh put far too many consonants together with not enough vowels. 'Wyn plngh dsarfgth eil plvawtfrn' is not a proper sentence. When earth ponies and unicorns all learn to speak Winglish, maybe I'll consider being polite towards you. Until then, bugger off!"

“Sorry,” said Applejack, leaving the room.

“And so it was that, their plans foiled, Cratchitt and her relatives had Christmas dinner in Spells after all.”

“Well, that didn’t turn out all that well, did it?” said Rarity.

“Nae,” said Applejack. “She saw right through us, she did.”

“Well, at least we all got to spend time together as a family,” said Cratchitt.

“And the three races being together is what Christmas is truly about,” said Rarity.

“Celestia bless us, everypony!” said Tiny Tim.

”And so it was that this is the end of the story,” said Simon as the curtain fell.

“Hang on a minute,” said a pony in the crowd. “How were the races united, then?”

“Oh, that?” answered Simon. “Hundreds of years of relentless wars, thousands of deaths, and bitterness which lingers even to this day. And the languages of Spelsh and Scoffish are now almost entirely dead.”

And that’s how the United Kingdom of Great Equestria and Northern Sapphireland was made.

Author's Note

Have a happy Christmas, everypony!

If you're wondering how they can have Christmas even though it's a fantasy land which would presumably have a different holiday, the answer is that Equestria has Christmas the same way Narnia and Hogwarts have Christmas: they just do.

Green Isn't Your Colour

Green Isn’t Your ~~Color~~ Colour

Guest written by CassandraMyOCisBestpony

“Terribly sorry I’m late for our weekly get together at Lameington Spa,” said Rarity.

“Oh no please, the fault is mine for making you feel pressured to rush. Was the Tube running slow today?”

“Aye, but that goes without saying. The other reason for my tardiness was that I ran into Foto Fräulein, the world famous photographer, all the way from Stirrup!”

“I thought we were from Stirrup.”

“No no mate, Continental Stirrup. Germaney, to be precise.”

“I ‘ope you were able to appease ‘er.”

“Even better, I got ‘er to come have a look at my clothes!”

“Crikey, that’s a good job! Wot do the birds in Germaney fancy? Polka dots?”

“Course not, you nobhead! By the by, I need you to be my model.”

“Oh my, I don’t know…”

“Oh but you must, this is my only chance to get my clothes into Hayrod’s! Hayrod's! Why I want this more than a Countdown Teapot!”

“Well, if it means that much to you, go on then.”

The duo went to Rarity’s, along with Twilight, Pinkie and Simon.

“I was revising for my A-levels when I heard the news. Foto Fräulein?” gushed Twilight, “That’s the mutt’s nuts!”

“Yes yes,” said Rarity dismissively. “Wingardium Leviosa.” she said to a pile of red poppy pins, but they didn’t move a millimetre.

“Remember, swish and flick,” said Twilight helpfully. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Ta Twilight, Now Fluttershy, please hold still.” She adorned Fluttershy’s polka-dot dress with the red poppies. “I am just Little Miss Pernickety today because everything must be perfect.”

Simon took Twilight and Pinkie aside, “I ‘ave a secret, and you mustn’t tell a soul.”

“Oxtail, honeysuckle, glens of green, I swear on my allegiance to the Queen!” recited Pinkie. “That is what I call a Pinkie Treaty, and I would sooner ‘ave a punch-up with Sir Killalot than break it.”

They leaned in really close, and Simon lowered his voice to a whisper, “Rarity is fiiiiiit, and I’d fancy a snog with ‘er.”

“Hang on a tick,” said Twilight, “that’s bloomin’ obvious, innit? 10:1 against she ‘asn’t figured it out ‘erself.”

“The Queen” pointed out Pinkie Pie. Twilight couldn’t argue with that.

At exactly 1.00.00 PM, Foto Fräulein arrived at the Boutique. As the lowest-borne in the room, Pinkie stood at the door and announced, “Presenting, Foto Fräulein!”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Foto and might I-”

“Ve have 47 seconds und counting. Vere is ze model?”

Foto’s entourage of pansexual mute stallions in leotards set up her camera. Fluttershy posed and smiled.

“Nein! No smile!” She smacked the table with her riding crop.

“Sor-”

“Nein! No talk!” she smacked the table again. Fluttershy cowered.

“Ja, ja, ja! Ze Schadenfreude! Wunderbar!” After 47 seconds had elapsed, she packed up and left.

“May I inquire as to what you thought of my clothes?” asked Rarity.

“I liked zem as much as I like marmite,” she scoffed.

After her entourage shooed all the pigeons and squirrels away, Foto Fräulein conducted another photoshoot in the park.

“I thought for this one we could…” began Rarity.

“I hated your clothes! Did I not make zat clear?”

“Actually-”

“No matter!” She hastily dressed Fluttershy in an Oktoberfest dirndl. “Flutterscheu, I vill make you ze biggest thing since David Hasselhoof!”

Before long, Fluttershy’s face was plastered all over advertisments of every kind. The adverts were on the sides of double-decker buses, on hoardings, and, of course, on the telly. Consequentially, Applejack’s apple lager sales were jolly good, but Rarity was minging because she was jealous of Fluttershy’s success. Worse still, the EBC, the one place where she was safe from the ads, was showing a 24-hour “Little Equestria” marathon.

“Sometimes I wonder why I even purchased that ruddy television license,” fumed Rarity.

“Woe is me!” lamented Rarity. “Do you not see, Twilight? I’ve wanted to be a fashion designer since I was in grammar school! Fluttershy’s gone and nicked my opportunity! This is pants!”

Twilight gasped, “Rarity! Language!”

“I apologise. But please, keep my jealousy under lock and key.”

“The Queen, Twilight,” pointed out Pinkie Pie.

“Righto, my silence it is.” Rarity sulked away to drown her sorrows in chip butty & sausage. Fluttershy entered just as she left.

“Wotcher Twilight. The Underground was running behind shedule; is Rarity gone?”

“Aye, she left just a centiminute ago.”

“Blimey, that was close. I didn’t want to see ‘er on account of I might let it slip that I don’t want to be a model...don’t tell ‘er that.”

“For the Queen, I shan’t.”

“Thanks Twilight, you’re a pussy.”

Foto Fräulein burst in through the door, “Achtung, Flutterscheu! It is time for ze fashion show!”

“Not to worry, Fluttershy,” said Twilight, “I have a cunning plan. What is the most repulsive thing you can think of?”

“An Amareican, obviously.”

“Obviously. I figger if you repulse them enough, Foto will give you your P45, you won’t have to ‘urt Rarity’s feelings, and Bob’s your uncle!”

“Why that’s more cunning than a weasel in sixth-form cunning lessons!” Fluttershy went out on stage and began to speak in her best Amareican accent.

“Howdy partner, remember when we defeated you in a war 200 years ago?” The crowd gasped. “One flight of stairs? Why I can’t count that high; I’ll take the lift! Oh no, I’m having a coronary! I’ll have to sell my house to pay for the bypass!”

“That’s rubbish!” yelled a noble.

“Go back to Covent Garden!” yelled an MP.

“You’re fired!” declared Sir Alan Sugarcube.

It wasn’t his decision to make, but Foto Fräulein did sack her, and Fluttershy got the horseshoe, as well as a cushy redundancy package that left her set for life.

Unable to keep her mouth shut any longer, Twilight cried, “Simon wants to shag Rarity!”

“OI!” exclaimed Simon.

“Dear Queen Celestia the Second,

Today I learned just how dangerous secrets can be. Secrets lead to deceit, deceit leads to crime, and crime leads to chaos. If we let ponies keep secrets, we may have to issue firearms to the bobbies just to keep order! Privacy is overrated. I say ‘if you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to fear.’ Later today, the council will be voting on a bill to install cameras at all zebra crossings to catch litterers and jaywalkers. I humbly ask for your endorsement on this measure.

Sincerely, Twilight Sparkle.”

Author's Note

Thanks to CassandraMyOCIsBestPony for this chapter! If you like it, go check out some of her stories. Particularly, ones starring her OC, Cassandra, who is the best pony.

Crystal Pony Independence Referendum

A logo with black blocks and white letters flashed in front of a red background, as a handsome-looking stallion sat in front of a news desk.

“This is the EBC, and we now return to our ongoing coverage of the Rockish Independence Referendum,” he spoke in a deep voice and bold text that will be easy to recognise during the rest of this chapter.

The screen flashed to a stock scene of Rockland, or, as it used to be known, the Crystal Empire. Crystal buildings towered into the sky, the streets were made of crystal, and even the ponies shimmered like crystals.

“For hundreds of years, Rockland to the North has been an inseparable part of the Unified Kingdom. Well, save for that one unfortunate incident where it was buried underground for an eon after a unicorn from Equestria enslaved them all and turned it into the Crystal Empire… but other than that whole business, Rockland has been part of the Unified Kingdom for many years.”

The news footage cut to a picture of King Somber, a dark black stallion wearing red royal robes and smiling a brilliant yellow, terrible smile with crooked teeth. He had a red horn for some bizarre reason.

“However, tomorrow there will be a vote in Rockland about whether or not it will secede, and break the union of the Unified Kingdom. Right now, the vote is too close to call.”

The screen cut to footage of hundreds of crystal ponies waiting in a queue, around the block. It was recycled footage from the queue to the Equestria Games’ cricket match, however. The actual election hadn’t yet taken place, and Doctor Whooves wasn’t available to capture any footage from the future.

“The rolls of eligible voters have been expanded, and sixteen-year-olds, who have already been able to drive and buy fags for years, are now allowed to vote as well, thanks to the efforts of the Junior Suffragists.”

The screen cut to a group of crystal pony youths, who carried “yes” signs and all sang a song rather reminiscent of that song about women’s votes that was in Mary Poppins. It’s alright if you don’t recall it, and I’m dreadfully sorry for making such an obscure reference.

“Additionally, Equestrian citizens residing in Rockland will also be able to vote on this important issue.”

“Should Rockland be independent? How should I know? I’m originally from Marewood Forest in Equestria, and live here because of my work. I have three kids and I’m much too busy to focus on politics,” said a pegasus mare with a microphone up to her mouth.

“We need your opinion for this news broadcast,” said the interviewer.

“Well… you see…” she said, blushing slightly.

The reporter moved her microphone closer to the mare.

“You aren’t going to let me alone until I give an answer either way, are you?”

The camera swiveled from side to side.

“Oh, bother. Then my answer is ‘no,’ I suppose. Less thinking for me to have to do,” she said, shrugging, as she scratched the back of her head with her hoof.

“This mare isn’t the only pony who is vehemently against the separation of our longstanding union. The author of the beloved Daring Do series of books has thrown her weight and money behind the ‘no’ vote.”

Flashbulbs flashed as A. K. Yearling sat in front of a white background, behind a table, signing autographs, as reporters asked her question after question.

“Is it true that Cabalerron is gay?” asked one reporter.

“Why does Daring Do never reveal the identity of her father?” asked another.

“What is your opinion on the Rockish independence referendum?” asked the third.

“The Unified Kingdom should remain as one,” said Daring Do. “Do you lot have any idea how difficult it will be to re-write all of my books to ret-con it into being a separate country? The whole bundle of them will have to be parsed! Daring Do and the Unfortunate Queue, Daring Do and the Perilous Gambit, and most of all, Daring Do and the Chamber of Crystal, which takes place almost entirely in Rockland.”

The questions stopped for a moment. Finally, a single stallion raised his hand. A.K. Yearling pointed over to him.

“Uh, you do realize, Miss Yearling, that you don’t have to re-write your books, correct? If ‘yes’ wins, you can just have your old books be set before the date of the vote in time, and have the ones after be set--”

“My books are supposed to be timeless!” A.K. Yearling snapped. “Dating them would demean them.”

"Even louder and more famous voices than Miss Yearling have spoken up in favour of the ‘no’ side. Queen Celestia the Second has also weighed in on the subject, as have Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armour, the Equestrian-appointed royal governors of Rockland."

The three royal ponies all sat in a fancy room of a posh castle, with gold chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, mahogany panelling on all the walls, and priceless china to hold the tea.

“It would simply tear me apart to see my land simply torn apart,” said Queen Celestia II, as a single teardrop fell from her wrinkled old eye and landed in her teacup, making a dainty splash.

Her head jolted up. “Percival! A new cup of tea!” she shouted. A shimmering crystal butler galloped over, took the old cup of tea, and poured the Queen a new one.

“It would be especially dreadful if we lost Rockland, because Cadance has a new royal baby due,” said Shining Armour.

Cadance’s horn lit up, as her belly became invisible, and the viewers could all witness the foetus inside via magic. The young pup was silently sobbing, as it held a tiny little pennant which said “no” on it. Then, the baby kicked at Cadance’s womb in frustration.

“It’s a girl; her name is Skyla,” said Cadance. “While we’re on the subject, abortion should be illegal.”

“The tut-tutting and neigh-saying of the royals hasn’t stopped the Rockish premier, Igneous MacDunite, from expressing his desire for an independent Rockland.”

A shimmering gold stallion with a black mane and a kilt on his flank stood in front of the proud crystal city of Glasscow.

“Aye, vote aye. We musn’t let those bluudy Equestrians rool us ennah longah! We demand our independence! We’ll have free education, free healthcare--’

“Uh, the EHS is already free at point-of-service in Equestria,” the reporter cut in, moving her microphone in further towards him.

“Aye, but here, socialised medicine will be so free that we’re gunnah pay YOO to go to the doctah!” he said, stomping his hooves on the ground, which rumbled at his great strength.

“How do you propose to fund such a scheme?” said the reporter.

“Simple, lassie,” said the stallion. The camera panned out as he motioned with his hoof towards the crystal mountains beyond. “We have crystals a-plenty in the mountains! And all the revenue from ‘em is gunnah go straight to us and nae to Equestria!”

“The ‘yes’ campaigners have frequently cited the desire to run their own finances using money from the crystals in the crystal mines. They don’t want to pay their taxes to the crown, much like another certain rebellious former Equestrian territory-which-shall-not-be-named. But after hundreds of years of mismanagement and plunder by the late King Somber, the former Crystal Empire’s mines may be running lower than the analysts have predicted before, and outputs are slated to plunge by as much as fifty per cent over the next few decades.”

The scene shifted to a dark and dingy mine, lit only by gaslight. The reporter shined her light on a crystal pony who was so covered in black dust that one could not see his shimmering coat below.

“I cannah find any more crystals!” said the stallion, throwing his hooves in the air. “Vote no!”

“But economic reasons aren’t the only factor. Some crystal ponies are more concerned with culture. Here is our pony-on-the-street interview in Glasscow.”

On a grassy, green field full of frolicking sheeps and ewes, a bekilted crystal stallion stood, playing a crystal bagpipe. It sounded absolutely dreadful, since crystal is a terrible conductor of sound. The camera jolted up and down as the camerastallion tried to cover his ears with one hoof while holding the camera with the other.

The reporter asked, “So…. why do you…” she gritted her teeth as the terrible feedback from the microphone grazed her ears like hoofnails on a chalkboard.

The stallion quit playing. “Sorry aboot that, lassie. I was just playin’ a wee song on me bagpipe. And I’m gunnah eat me some haggis made’a crystal sheep stomach!”

The camera panned over to a long wooden picnic table, where a half dozen crystal ponies sat eating lunch. One mare brought a fork up to her mouth, eating the crunchy crystal stomach full of other crunchy, rock-hard crystals.

“Ah, I fink at is me last toof!” the mare exclaimed, giving a gummy smile like Pinkie Pie’s signature pet alligator.

Another mare at the table said, “Vote yes! We don’t wanna be part of NETO anymore, neither. Get those Equestrian megaspell bombs off of Rockish land!”

The reporter moved her microphone towards the mare. “How do you propose that you’ll defend your new country if ‘yes’ wins and they remove the bombs?”

“We’ll just join the Stirrupean Union,” said one of the crystal ponies.

“Nae, they’ll never take us,” said the bagpipe pony. “To defend our great land, we’d be better off throwin’ logs at our enemies!”

He grabbed a giant caber from the ground and heaved it over towards the reporter. It missed her, but it hit the camera, smashing it to pieces.

“We could nae even defend ourselves. It only took a single unicorn to enslave us all! We need Equestria to defend us. Vote ‘no!’” one of the crystal stallions said.

“Average citizens in Equestria are torn about this too. Here is our pony-upon-the-street interview in Ponyborough-upon-Everfree.”

In the centre of Ponyborough-upon-Everfree, there stood the mane six, giving interviews to the reporter.

“Oh, it would be dreadful if Rockland were to secede,” said Rarity, throwing her chin in the air and dramatically wiping her brow with her hoof. “They won’t be able to keep the Equestrian shilling as currency, you know. So how will I buy those gorgeous crystals for my dresses? I could always ask incredibly politely, I suppose.”

“As a party mare, I know when ponies have overstayed their welcome, and the Crystal Ponies certainly have. They should take their drunken selves home and vote ‘yes!’” Pinkie exclaimed.

“If Rockland seceded, then who will solve all six of our gun crimes? Rockland Hard is the best detective service in all the land. Vote ‘no’, Rockland, if that’s all the same with you,” said Fluttershy.

“Oy, those tossers had better not secede!” said Rainbow Chav, blowing a condescending smoke cloud towards the north. “I fly up to Glasscow on the weekends to load up on cheap fags! I’m not standin’ in a queue for hours just to get a passport stamped!”

“If I might suggest that you quit smoking,” said Fluttershy meekly.

“Yeah, and this is a children’s show, innit?” asked Pinkie Pie. “The censors must be awful lax.”

Rainbow Chav laughed. “You wot, mate? Only losers and Frenchmares quit! No, if ‘yes’ wins, I’m not quittin.’ I’d just pay more for fags over here and end up skint.”

She turned out her burberry trouser pockets, and a single fly flew out.

“No, Geordie Bob! Come back!” yelled Rainbow Chav, dashing after her pet fly.

“Course I support ‘yes!’ Aye, if ‘yes’ passes, I’m movin’ straight back in with me crystal clan!” said Applejack. “We can cook the best crystal meths known to ponykind! And then, we’re a gunnah brew a--”

The scene cut out, and somewhere at the EBC, a news producer found himself sacked for allowing such a dreadful mare-on-the-street interview to air. Then, it returned to the anchor at the EBC news desk.

“In conclusion, the Rockish independence referendum is a complex and emotionally-charged issue. Regardless of the outcome of the vote, hopefully the citizens of Equestria and Rockland can maintain their mutual tradition of politeness and respect.”

Simon the dragon flipped the telly remote, turning off the EBC as he turned over towards Owlowicious, who sat inside of his owl cage.

“I simply don’t understand it, Owlie. I just watched that entire program, and I still haven’t the slightest idea why they want to secede. They give conflicting answers. Will they be able to keep the Equestrian shilling, or not? Do they have enough crystals to sustain themselves, or don’t they? Is it cultural, or economic? Both? I don’t understand why!”

Owlowicious shrugged. “Who,” he hooted.

“Not who, Owlie, Why. Though I do agree with you that The Who was the greatest Equestrian invasion rock band of the last century, and Quadrophilomena was undoubtedly a masterpiece album. It still doesn’t answer my query.”

Simon sighed as he slouched back in his seat.

“Twilight!” he shouted.

With a flash, Twilight Sparkle teleported over to him. “What is it, Simon?”

“I watched a whole program but I still don’t understand why Rockland wants to secede, or even what any of it is about.”

Twilight Sparkle chuckled. “I don’t think anypony does, Simon.”