Bismarck and Churchill Sit Down for a Chat, Drink Scotch

“Where’s your Picklehaube,” asked Churchill as he positioned himself comfortably in an enormous leather chair.

“Cleaners,” indicated Bismarck.

“Smart fellow.”

Churchill eyed Bismarck warily. There was something not quite right about the man. Besides being German, his whiskers appeared extra long and wispy. He was abnormally hairy for a purportedly bald man.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a feline, would you,” Churchill asked.

Bismarck started at him, with piercing half moon eyes that made Churchill uneasy.

“I didn’t think so.”

Bismarck immersed his head in the whisky.

Churchill was smiling at him when he looked up.

“Good stuff, he said, aged fifty years from the Scottish Highlands.”

Bismarck purred.

“You know there as men there isn’t so much that divides us,” Churchill remarked. “We are virile and brave, determined, the sort who support a cause with the entirety of our being.”

Bismarck concurred by wagging his tail.

Churchill continued. “As such I think we should see to it that we stop meddling in the affairs of Europe. Let the others have their troubles. We are men of industry and Empire, you and I. Perhaps we can reach an understanding.”

Bismarck dunked himself once again in the whisky. When he reappeared this time, he had transformed into a mean drunk. He went over to a map and scratched out Poland.

Churchill looked at him with a pug face.

“On that matter I differ with you sir,” Churchill said, fighting his way into a standing position. “Statesman understand the value of letting certain peoples be, of not interfering in the affairs of neutral nations, of maintaining the standing of the principle of Great B…I mean self-determination.”

Bismarck canted about the crimes of Great Britain in India. Churchill decanted some more Scotch.

“Perhaps we can reach an understanding as Gentlemen.”

Bismarck raised his ears in deference.

“You agree not to occupy France for seventy years and I’ll let you go on repressing the Socialists.”

Bismarck gave Churchill a dismissive wink.

“Alright the Catholics.”

Bismarck perched up. What about Russia he seemed to say.

“Oh, there’s not much you can with the Slavs other than deliver to them the occasional thumping,” Churchill said.  

Bismarck seemed like he wanted to question this. He balanced this need against his desire for some of the pate that had been surreptiously placed on the table.  He decided a confrontation could wait.

A deal was struck. Let there be peace for now. Terrible, terrible war later. Bismarck donned his Hamburg and Bismarck went back to Hamburg. Both to one day meet again.