Jersey

Bailiwick of Jersey Jersey
Flag Coat of arms
Motto: Ah bah crie!
Anthem: La Vache Royale
Capital	St. Helier
Demonym	Jersey beans on toast
Government	Parliamentary constituational monarchy
‑ Sovereign	Charles III
‑ Lieutenant governor	Jerry Kyd
‑ Bailiff	Sir Timothy Le Cock
‑ Chief minister	Lyndon Farnham
National Hero(es)	Sam Mézec
Religion	The Gospel of the Unhelpful Road Signs
Population	103,267 (2021 census)

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Jersey, officially the Bailiwick of Jersey, is a mysterious, faraway island known primarily for its Jersey cattle, tax-dodging billionaires, and being mistook for New Jersey by mentally challenged Americans. Located somewhere in the English Channel, Jersey is technically a British Crown Dependency, meaning it gets all the perks of being a Brit without actually being part of Britain, such as anticyclonic gloom, overpriced Tesco Meal Deals and a national obsession with queueing. This has allowed Jersey to develop its own unique culture, government and a baffling legal system seemingly designed to confuse both locals and tourists alike.

Despite its insignificant size, Jersey boasts an impressive economy based on three key industries: finance, tourism and selling overpriced dairy products to unsuspecting visitors. The island is also famous for its beaches, castles and a population that fluctuates wildly depending on whether or not tax season is approaching. Locals are fiercely proud of their heritage, their incomprehensible Norman-French laws, and their ability to drive tractors at 7 miles per hour in a 40 zone while pretending not to notice the twenty-car pileup behind them.

History

Originally inhabited by Neolithic settlers who presumably got lost on their way to somewhere more interesting, Jersey later became a key battleground for medieval squabbles between Ingerlund and l'Hexagone le Pentagone. Despite being closer to the latter, Jersey remains stubbornly loyal to the Crown, mainly since they enjoy confusing tourists with road signs written in French whilst refusing to speak a word of it. The island even boasts its own ancient language, "Jèrriais", which is spoken fluently by an estimated three elderly people and one particularly articulate seagull. It is alleged that Jèrriais is now taught exclusively to seagulls via interpretive dance workshops.

At some point during the 17th century, an approximated 40% of the Jersey population fled their country to establish what would soon become U.S. state of New Jersey, having grown sick and tired of the constant squabbling between England and France, who by this point were arguing so much over who owned what that they were essentially giving away the island for free. They abandoned their Norman-French roots and the incessant territorial disputes, only to settle in a land where they could start fresh—only to discover that the new squabble would be over whether the pork roll or Taylor ham was the superior breakfast sandwich, an arguably more gory and gruesome debate, complete with heated arguments, and slinging greasy sandwiches.

Perhaps Jersey's most famous moment in history came during World War II when the island was occupied by Nazi Germany. Unlike the rest of Britain, which heroically resisted invasion, Jersey simply shrugged and waited for the war to end. While the rest of the world endured air raids and resistance movements, Jersey spent the time perfecting the art of passive-aggressive resistance, making a silent yet profound statement through a series of unhelpfully vague road signs, defiant cheese platters, and the occasional highly suspicious-looking lighthouse. The legacy of this occupation lives on in the form of underground tunnels, eerie bunkers, and a deep-rooted local tradition of complaining about everything.

Currently, the Bailiwick is a tax haven wrapped in bedlam, where the cattle are happy, the road signs are in Franglais, and a large percentage of locals remain uncertain as to what exactly is meant by a "British Crown Dependency". The annual celebration of Liberation Day is held every 9 May, in honour of how they and their fellow countrymen in Guernsey survived the Second World War by doing ever so little, apart from feeding cattle with scarcely any rations at their fingertips, and watching as the rest of Europe heroically fought on while they "waited for the liberation party to show up". It is an event marked by solemn reflection, followed by a loud afternoon of trying to figure out where to park.

Politics

Despite the island's compact size, politics in Jersey remain thrillingly dramatic. Scandals have included misused expense accounts, poorly-worded tweets 𝕏-posts, and that time infamous local delinquent M. "The Jersey Prankster" Roberts replaced all government-issued parking permits with handwritten notes that simply read "Official unicorn stable! Do not tow, she's pregnant!" Enforcement officers were baffled, the public was amused, and at least one councillor demanded a unicorn-proof barrier be installed outside the Town Hall.

Legislature and government

Jersey's political system is a baffling stew of ancient Norman law, modern bureaucracy, and mild coastal chaos. The island is governed by the States of Jersey, which is neither a music festival nor a mental health support group, but a legislative assembly consisting of elected officials, unelected officials and at least one man who showed up in 1987 and was never asked to leave. Political parties do exist, though historically Jersey preferred its politicians to be "independent", i.e., independently wealthy, independently eccentric, and independently unaware of how microphones work.

At the helm of this democratic onion sits the Chief Minister, who is democratically elected by other politicians in a process described as "somewhere between a pub quiz and a séance". In layman's terms, he is essentially the Prime Minister but with fewer nukes and more parish feuds. The rest of the government includes Connétables, Senators, Deputies and whatever title Sir Samuel Yves Mézec is currently holding. Political debates are known for their intensity, often ending in passive-aggressive tea breaks and strongly worded letters printed off of Microsoft Word and penned in Calibri.

Law

Laws in Jersey are passed using as a system known as "Loi Customary de la Mess", which requires a minimum of two readings, three misinterpretations, and at least one shouting match involving a farmer and a lawyer in a rough pub. These legislative rituals are often followed by a ceremonial shrug and a long lunch. The judicial system is equally mystifying, occasionally requiring defendants to be tried by a panel of ancient Jersey cattle to ensure fairness and lactose-based justice.

Presiding over much of this democratic theatre is the Bailiff, who is not, contrary to popular belief, the kind who kicks you from your flat for not paying rent. Instead, the Bailiff is Jersey's Speaker of the Assembly, Head of the Judiciary, and occasional Master of Ceremonies when a distant cousin of the late Queen drops by to cut a ribbon or name a sewage treatment plant. The role is appointed by the Crown—currently worn by King Charles III, who has yet to publicly admit that Jersey isn't just the name of a brand of potatoe—ensuring that even in the 21st century, there always lies one man in robes persistently reminding everyone that feudalism is anything but a relic of the past.

See also

• Guernsey
• Channel Islands