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The first thing you have to know is that Napoleon was a Gunner. He sneaked in during the chaos at the end of the French Revolution, made himself Emperor of France and declared war on everyone. His attempt to invade Britain was stopped by the Navy under Nelson sinking his fleet at Trafalgar. His attempt to invade Russia was stopped by the winter. He was thoroughly caned by the Army who under the command of Wellington fought their way from a small toehold in Portugal through Spain, across the Pyrenees and then into France in a series of actions now called “The Peninsular War” because Spain sticks out a bit. A war now mostly famous for Sean Bean. With typical French Elan, the little skirmishes that the French managed to walk away from are proudly commemorated on the Arc de Triomphe in Paris.

The wise men of government decided that there was only one thing they could possibly do with the defeated Napoleon; Send him to a Club Med resort on the island of Elba without a return ticket and make him promise to be a good boy. Well, he was crap at beach volleyball, kept on falling off the great big floating banana, got crabs from a big student nurse from Eindhoven and OD’ed on some tablets he found at the bottom of his luggage.

Deciding that he’d rather be Emperor of France again he got the next boat home. The wise men decided on a cunning plan: “We will send the French Army to arrest him, commanded by his most loyal general. That will show the world how much France hates Napoleon”. That plan worked brilliantly, and Napoleon advanced with his conveniently supplied army north into Belgium before meeting his waterloo at, er, Waterloo where the British (and, to be fair, a few Dutch) under Wellington pinned him in position until, very late in the day, the Prussians under Blucher got into his flanks and rear.

Of all the fucking cheek, Napoleon then asked the British for political asylum, because, as he said:

(a) The British were upright, honourable and respected a valiant enemy.
(b) The French were devious, malicious and generally nasty buggers who would hate him forever now that he had lost.
(c) Actually, he rather liked that Club Med resort, but a house in Surrey would do just fine.

Expedia showed that Elba was fully booked and RightMove could not find anywhere in Surrey with a bidet but someone remembered that there was an empty SFA with only a few rats and toxic wallpaper in desirable St Helena , a little dot in the South Atlantic. “Trust me mate – you’ll love it. St Helena is rocking now - It’s the Ibiza of the southern hemisphere – Go Large –you’ll thank me”.