EIA:Danish lamentations
Danish-Turkish diplomatic relations in June-July of 1794
On an unnaturally hot and sunny, late June night the Danes were drunk. All of them. Even the children. A time of peace, prosperity and a reforged personal union with Norway had been going on for years and the British trade was flowing. New ships of the line were floating in the docks, used as amusement parks and rød grød med fløde was had all around.
Truth be told, the peace had become boring and thus, when the scalding hot summer wind carried the first, previously unheard tunes, the Danes rose their heads in wonder and amazement. The Turkish imams were singing sweet prayer calls of a new morning in their distant homelands but the Danes heard and loved every single warbling word of it. Immediately the immensely fat and drunk-out-of-his-mind Danish king Christian the Drunk took a bottle-shaped pen and hastily scribbled together a missive telling the Turks that whatever they wanted, they would have it, as long as Denmark got more of that wonderful singing.
The missive was sent to travel on British ships, first to London and to the Russian Egypt from there, crossing a border into Palestine and then finally, being carried by Bedouin camels, found it's way to the Caliph's hand. Still trembling from the excitement of a long-past Jihad against Britain (where Egypt was gained, only to be lost to Russia within months) those hands opened the letter and a new-found smile crossed the muslim's face: His allies in Sweden and Spain would like this, and that would mean money!
As the response, saying that the Sublime Porte would gladly take the Danes under their arm and provide them with Allah's love and never-ending prayer calls, was carried by the first few imams and minaret-builders, the Danes were eagerly awaiting the new songs and new drinks to fill their quite worn out repertoire. It took nearly half-way into July, still hot enough to keep the Danes drinking non-stop, before the Caliph's response was received and read in Copenhagen and the first minarets were built. The Danes, throwing up every other hour from the alcohol poisoning, applauded as the first calls were sounded and songs sung.
It was only after the most sober and intelligent of the locals translated what the imam was preaching that the news sunk in; as the rest of the evening and the night was spent sobering up, throwing up from the hangover and suffering from a massive headache, the Danes started to reflect on what had been done. Another missive was hastily and most shakily written (actually the Bey reading it to the Caliph found it hard to understand) and shipped to Constantinople post haste on a Danish ship of the line. Thus, in late July of the same year, a little more than a month after Denmark had sworn loyalty to the Turks and no more than five days of a country-wide hangover later, they proclaimed their own independence once again. The independence was celebrated with the tearing down of minarets and drinking of beer, while the Caliph was less than pleased at the loss of a potential cash source.
And all was well again.
