Proving Once Again That Small Nations Can Dream Big…
Especially When There’s Free Champagne Involved!

BY HARVEY SCHMIDLAP  l  STAFF WRITER
September 21st, 2024

Aigues-Mortes, France — In a night that will surely go down in the Official Guide to Micronational Awesomeness, The Republic of Slowjamastan‘s illustrious Sultan added some extra shimmer to his green suit by walking away with two of the three coveted trophies at the International Golden Bucket Gala in Aigues-Mortes, France—because apparently, even micronations need their version of the Oscars.

The Sultan, who has visited France so many times that baguettes now bow when they see him, arrived Friday night at Montpellier International Airport, where Chancellor Olivier de Constance greeted him with the fanfare usually reserved for popes or particularly well-dressed celebrities. It was the Sultan’s first foray into the south of France, a fact which, somehow, humanity had survived until now.

The first evening kicked off with a royal dinner, which, we assume, included more dignitaries than one would normally find at a James Bond villain convention. Prince Jean Pierre and other high-ranking micronational mucky-mucks were present, likely discussing pressing global issues like “Who has the fanciest imaginary currency?” and “Do micronational tax returns really matter?”

The Sultan’s itinerary the next morning took a truly glamorous turn: a tour of salt mines. That’s right. The leader of Slowjamastan, whose people may or may not actually exist, spent his day in the trenches—of sodium. Accompanied by heads of state from the heavy hitters of Duckionary, Flandrensis, and Obscurium–surely you’ve heard of these nations–they combed the salt like real-world monarchs comb through their vacation schedules.

But don’t worry, this wasn’t just a salt-themed sightseeing trip! Following their descent into the salt mines, The Sultan was whisked back to the walled city for lunch. Afterward, he embarked on a covert walking tour of Aigues-Mortes in his most “I’m totally a normal person, please don’t recognize me” outfit. However, much like a slow-motion action movie sequence, the paparazzi eventually caught wind of his undercover stroll, forcing the Sultan to retreat to the safety of his luxurious hotel—no doubt a hardship for a man of his status.

And then came the main event: the glittering Golden Bucket Gala, where micronational leaders from all over walked the red carpet, sipped the finest wines, and posed for the cameras like they were on a global diplomatic mission.

The first award went to Duckionary’s Archduke Arthur Constantin de Tourneau for “Most Promising Micronation,” because apparently, Duckionary’s potential is off the charts. Then, in a shocking turn of events that no one saw coming except literally everyone, The Sultan of Slowjamastan took home the final two awards: “Most Creative Micronation” and the ultimate prize, “Micronation of the Year.” It was like winning Best Picture and Best Director in one go, except with fewer speeches about world peace.

And just to make sure he left with maximum swag, the Order of the Grand Flamingo was slapped on his chest like the world’s fanciest merit badge.

However, the Sultan didn’t exactly sweep the night. His one miss? The elusive “Best Waltz” medal. Perhaps a gentle reminder that being a sultan doesn’t automatically make you Fred Astaire. He’s got two years until the next gala to perfect that footwork—and Slowjamastan’s citizens will no doubt expect nothing less than rhythmic perfection.

To cap it all off, the Sultan graciously thanked Prince Jean-Pierre, The Princess, The Chancellor, and anyone else who contributed to making his life feel even more like a Wes Anderson film.

It was also His Excellency’s first visit to the micronation and he was impressed to say the least:

“Aigues-Mortes was absolutely breathtaking! What a fantastic locale. And that wall! I’m dispatching our Chief Porder Batrol Agent immediately to take notes on how to construct a proper wall—one that actually keeps out the Crocs!”

Special thanks were also extended to the jurors for recognizing that, yes, Slowjamastan is the place to be, especially if you’re in the mood for some micronational magic… and maybe a dash of salt.