It began as a bit of a joke—at least, that’s what the world thought.
The United States, Canada, and Mexico had always been economic rivals, but when a late-night press conference turned into a shouting match about who could impose the highest tariffs, the stakes were raised.
“America first!” Trump bellowed, pounding the podium. “We’re putting a 1,000% tariff on everything! China, Mexico, even maple syrup from Canada! Nobody beats us at tariffs. Believe me!”
Not to be outdone, Canada’s Prime Minister held an emergency meeting. “If the Americans want a trade war, we’ll give them one—2,000% tariffs on all American goods!” he declared, as a team of economists collectively fainted in the background.
Mexico wasn’t about to sit this one out. “Hold my tequila,” the President muttered, before announcing 5,000% tariffs on U.S. imports.
For a moment, it seemed like the game was over—Mexico had won. But then came China.
“We will enter the competition,” the Chinese President announced, adjusting his tie. “We impose 10,000% tariffs on everything from all countries. Including ourselves. We don’t even know what that means, but it sounds impressive.”
The world gasped. Economies teetered. Bankers huddled in dark rooms, desperately trying to figure out what was happening. But just as it seemed like China had secured victory, a small island in the UK stepped forward.
The Isle of Wight.
A quiet, unassuming place, best known for its ferry service and retirees, had somehow become the world’s leading exporter of bullshit. And now, they saw an opportunity.
“We’ve been running an economy based entirely on nonsense for years,” the Isle of Wight’s self-proclaimed Trade Tsar announced. “We’re imposing a 1,000,000% tariff on all imported goods—including our own exports! Our bullshit industry is untouchable!”
The world was stunned.
Economists scrambled to make sense of it. News anchors struggled to explain. And deep in his golden palace, Trump watched in horror.
He could not lose.
But the stress was too much. His face turned red. His body tensed. And then—he trumped his pants. Again.
Aides rushed in, diapers in hand. “Sir, we have a fresh pair ready,” one whispered.
Trump glared. “No! I won’t be humiliated! Double the tariffs! Triple them! We’ll tax them so hard, they’ll have to pay us just to breathe!”
“But, sir—”
“No buts! Except mine! Change me, then raise tariffs on the Isle of Wight! They can’t win!”
As the competition spiraled into madness, global trade collapsed. Goods stopped moving. Prices skyrocketed. The world was now a battlefield of economic insanity.
And in a quiet office, a lone Isle of Wight bureaucrat smirked.
“Let them fight,” he muttered. “We’ve got the monopoly on bullshit.”
