I had a dream, recently.

I sailed across a vast ocean to a foreign land. At the blessed sight of shore, we disembarked. I held my flag up high in triumph. I dug the flagpole deep into the earth, claiming the new territory for the glory of the Americas.

An older man in a grey suit and with an English accent came forward.

"Aye, Aye! You can't claim us... We live here! Scores of us!"

Obviously, they were not a civilized lot, so I continued.

"From this point forward, your people shall be called 'Native British Islanders.'"

A land unspoiled by human advancement.

An unruly lot, they were. They had this archaic system of government, where the tribal elders would walk into a cave through one of a set of wooden doors to show their political beliefs.

I think they worshiped an ent with a tiara on it. I couldn't tell with all the vines holding it steadfastly to the throne.

I only have to say that I was terribly amused when I awoke.