Just as Jero Bonaparte was about to take Ham to the café to see what's going on, a pair of fair arms blocked his path, and the owner of the arms looked at Jero Bonaparte with a puzzled expression.
The owner of the arms was a young man wearing a light blue flak jacket and jeans, holding an old-fashioned smoothbore pistol, he sternly said to Jero, "Sir, you can't go any further! God knows what kind of atrocities those mobsters might commit against a gentleman like you!"
Only then did Jero Bonaparte rember that Britain in 1848 was at the peak of the Chartist movent, which almost toppled the British Royal Family, and the movent continued until 1851.
"Hmm?" Jero Bonaparte thanked the young man, he did not want to get involved in this political storm, as every major political storm ant large-scale conflicts, and sotis, if the conflicts were too intense, they would lead to bloodshed, either his own blood or that of the enemy. He didn't want to shed blood in Britain, he just wanted to return to France safely.
Seeing Jero Bonaparte's reluctance to move forward, the young man, after looking at Jero's attire, enthusiastically introduced himself: "I live on Picadilly Street, and my na is George John. Who might you be?"
"Jero Stalin!" Jero Bonaparte, who was wary of Anglo-Saxons, casually made up a na full of dark humor.
"Mr. Stalin!" George John seriously addressed Jero Bonaparte as Mr. Stalin, which made Jero burst into laughter.
Who knows if the future kindly father would directly purge for using his na!
After silently joking to himself, Jero Bonaparte quickly restrained his smile and his expression beca increasingly grim.
"Um... Mr. Stalin! Why did you laugh?" George John asked, puzzled.
"I thought of sothing happy! Please continue!" Jero Bonaparte said to George John.
"Mr. Stalin, are you interested in joining our team?" George John tentatively asked.
"Your team?" Jero Bonaparte looked George John up and down, judging by his actions and posture, the man in front of him was probably a community volunteer police officer, and an unpaid one at that.
"That's right!" George John instantly bead as he detailed the 'benefits' of being a community volunteer police officer, like being able to legally receive 'donations', conduct 'zero-price purchases' from the poor, and, if credited, transition to a regular position within the British police force.
In essence, it's an unpaid temp job, solving problems when needed, taking the fall when trouble arises, with all the credit going to the supposed leadership of the British police.
The benefits are not even as good as the neighboring French National Guard.
"And what is your position?" Jero Bonaparte inquired.
"I am appointed as the squad leader of the Picadilly Street volunteer police team!" George John bead as he spoke to Jero Bonaparte, with a deanor that suggested he felt as though he had been appointed as a minister by the Cabinet Pri Minister.
It's good for young people to have passion, but sotis it can lead to trouble because of it.
Having gone through his own passionate period, Jero never tried to dissuade this "young man" (not much younger than Jero Bonaparte himself), believing that only after experiencing setbacks would he understand not everything in life is profitable.
"I..." Just as Jero Bonaparte was about to refuse George John's offer, he heard a shout from the direction of the café "We want bread," "We want jobs," "We want universal suffrage," "We want democracy!"
Soon the workers gathered at the café echoed the call.
Although they didn't understand what democracy and universal suffrage were, they heard from those big figures (Charter Faction) that with universal suffrage and democracy cos bread and jobs.
"Let's go! We are going to City Hall to petition!"
The call for a "petition" suddenly erged from the crowd, and soon after, everyone echoed it, following the crowd ntality, the workers joined in shouting "petition."
The leader organizing this "rally" also did not expect the "public" would be so "enthusiastic" in supporting them (the Charter Faction), feeling as triumphant as a general commanding thousands of troops.
He jumped off the improvised podium made of two wooden boxes, and everyone instinctively made way for the leader.
A mighty "petition" force was forming at the back and moving to the front towards London City Hall, the Charter Faction representative leading the way with unemployed workers and elite classes forced into the proletariat following behind him.
The place where Jero Bonaparte was standing happened to be where the petition force was headed.
Almost all volunteer police and special police officers (also temporary workers in Britain, self-ard, with responsibility for any incidents) were on high alert.
The situation beca quite tense, and Jero Bonaparte could even hear a volunteer police officer gulping three ters away from him.
"Buddy! Looks like we've got trouble!" George John said with a slight tremble in his voice. This was his first ti facing a petition force; he had only heard about it from neighbors before.
"I agree!" Jero Bonaparte nodded in agreent, and Ham, whom he was holding onto, also bared his teeth and barked twice.
Seeing the march approaching, Jero Bonaparte wanted to leave, as he didn't want to get involved in such a political vortex.
Just as Jero was about to turn and leave, George John's hand grasped Jero's sleeve: "George!"
"Mr. Stalin, you can't leave!" George John pleaded, looking at Jero Bonaparte.
"Damn it! I'm not a volunteer police officer! I have no obligation to help the governnt suppress them!" Jero Bonaparte restrained his anger and said to George John.
"Mr. Stalin, look around!" George John pointed at the surrounding volunteer police officers and whispered to Jero Bonaparte, "If you leave suddenly, it could cause the entire team to collapse! If investigated later, you'll be court-martialed!"
Jero Bonaparte laughed bitterly and said, "I'm just an innocent bystander, and you treat an international friend like this?"
"Sir, this is Britain!" George John responded helplessly.
"Damn United Kingdom!" Jero Bonaparte cursed quietly.
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