Colonies

It's good to be modern, don't you think? Bowling alley, skating rink. If we moderns want a swim, we drive our cars down to the gym. We've mastered plastics, studied steel, no fears about tomorrow's meal: our meat is packed, our fruit is tinned, our ships can move without the wind! But, seeking boons beyond all these, we want to grab some colonies. You know the kind of thing we mean -- the sea is blue, the forest green, they pick wild fruit, bask in the sun, they've never seen a gatling gun, and when we show up with our forces, we'll help ourselves to their resources. We'll load the booty on our ship, and sail away (and pay them zip) -- back to the belching chimney stacks of Huddersfield or Halifax, and "manufacture" something new (the chocolate egg, the high-heel shoe) then ship it back to Paradise, and make them buy it. We win twice! But 1860 -- what a shock! Three new kids show up on the block, see Martinique and Mandalay -- and say, "hey guys, we wanna play!" The Slant-Eyes, Eyeties and the Hermans (the Japanese, Italians, Germans) can now boast countries of their own, and want to join the Modern Zone. But Britain and France (and here's the rub!) are running an exclusive club. They won't allow the new boys in. So sit back, watch the war begin!