Once upon a time, the world as we know it decided to split into two halves. It seemed a lot less hassle than the annual revolutions which each year overthrew the system, as all this did was to spawn a new system exactly like the old and which therefore required a whole new revolution the next year.
Instead, all the doers, the realists and the real thinkers had one half of the world (Weststralia) and the freedom to carry on as they chose, and to the other half of the world (Eastzealand) went all the pseudo intellectuals, the liberals, the downtrodden and the discriminated against.
Of course, Weststralia was rather top heavy with talented leaders and achievers, and Eastzealand seemed to be mainly populated by people whose fault it wasn't, which worked out rather well, because they could blame the West for everything.
Weststralia had some quite useful sports teams, and each year gave Eastzealand rather a sound thrashing in their annual soccer, cricket and ping pong matches, but as Eastzealanders didn't equate the score to success, both sides came away happy and had a jolly beer or two afterwards, although the Westerners did seem to win more than their fair share of Spoof games which usually accompanied the post games drinkies.
Trade was quite a one sided affair, as the currency of Eastzealand, the Whinge, was trading at an all time low against the Highfive. It was currently 77903 Whinges to a Highfive, and since the average earnings of an Eastzealander were 30000 Whinges a year (in fact that's what everyone earned, irrespective of how hard or productively they worked, or indeed whether they worked at all), it was a bit of a struggle for Eastzealand to be able to afford any imported goods at all.
Weststralians took full advantage of this, and whenever they found themselves in need of handwoven baskets, herbal flower remedies or free range vegetables, would simply place an order for a hundredweight and pay for it out of small change.
Once again, it was hard to say who took more pleasure from this situation, Weststralia for their ability to snaffle a bargain, or Eastzealand for the moral superiority it gave them. Most social commentators called it a tie.
Living conditions in Eastzealand had regressed by Weststralian standards. Most houses were crafted from papier mache using Guardian articles by George Monbiot, which gave them a nice air of sustainability, at least until any sort of storm blew up, although this did keep the construction industry (and Mr Monbiot) very busy.
Ridden of what they considered parasitic economic leaches, Weststralians rejoiced in their wealth. Most families have 7 or 8 top end BMWs and the wherewithall to holiday monthly in the plethora of 6 star resorts which had sprung up all over Eastzealand. Built mainly with Westralian finance, but acting as employment hubs for Eastzealanders, these resorts reminded many of the old days in Denarau and the Coral Coast of Fiji.
Although the population of Eastzealand diminished significantly each year, as more and more Eastzealanders grew disillusioned with equality, Eastzealand saw this as a reason to smugly congratulate itself on the removal of yet more non conformists.
Life in Eastzealand was perfect. True, it did take a while to get anywhere, as bicycles were the only permitted form of transport, and the hand crafted roads, built entirely of bank notes, were in a terrible state of repair, with potholes everywhere, but that was the point. It was how life should be, and anyway, if you didn't like it, there was always the threat of a visit from the Sustainability Council to keep you in line.
Things weren't so good in Westralia. Inequality was rife, and whilst this was of no consequence, because everyone had what they wanted, many aspired to have more. This resulted in a sensation called motivation, which was rather looked down on by the observers in Eastzealand.
One February, at the daily general election in Eastzealand, the entire population, having once again elected themselves unanimously to be joint prime ministers, decided they could no longer tolerate the profligacy and vulgarity of Westralian economic success, and that it was their duty to liberate Westralian citizens from the misery and thrall in which they found themselves.
They proposed to invade Westralia and remove from it's population the sinful gains of capitalism. As they were opposed to waste, they decided to keep these for themselves, rather than to junk them. After all, a typical Westralian family could spare a Beamer or two, couldn't they.
And so it came about that in the year 2525, the army of Eastzealand, composed entirely of Generals, and armed exclusively with ethically woven coffee jars and rolled up IPCC climate reports, crossed the border into Westralia, hell bent on improving the lot of the downtrodden Westralians.
How joyful they would be to be liberated, though the Eastzelanders, as they marched abreast in one long line, singing their national anthem "Advance Eastzealand poor" to a wide variety of tunes.
They were met at the border by a dynamic young Westralian who politely requested to see their passports.
Since the concept of any basic form of proof of identity was anathema to the people of Eastzealand, this was the first in what was to prove a catalogue of unexpected hiatuses in their plan.
The second hiatus, and it was one that looked particularly challenging to the revolution, was the appearance of a large army of Westralians, heavily armed with modern high powered weaponry, and placards which bore such legends as "Don't budge if you bludge", "Trough off you tossers", "George Monbiot is a Wanker", and the simple yet direct "Get off my land".
Tempers flared, shots were fired and rolled up IPCC reports were thrown, although it must be said these were considerably less effective than the shots.
Disheartened and in many cases dismayed by such discriminative rudeness, the Eastzealanders began the long trek home. When they got there, they found a brisk southerly blowing and the sage words of George Monbiot scattered asunder, which in practical terms meant they had no shelter, and it rather looked like rain.
They fell to bickering amongst themselves, and some even began to question their way of life.
It was, they concluded, all the fault of the Westralians.