Council of the Caffienated Nations

Let us fly flags of every colour and design from the rafters. They might get caught up in the swirling ceiling fans, causing electrical shorting, sparks and eventual fire, but that's not the point.

The point is that we are a multinational group, us Internetters, and here there are no boundaries, unless you count the boundaries as laid out in our URLs, which, quite frankly, would ruin the general global village effect that I'm aiming for, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't. Thanks.

I'll just prep the Uberpercolator...what do we have for today's ingredients...a kilogramme bar of Belgian Chocolate in this slot here...there's a small greenhouse-style arrangement just here on the side where the espresso bin usually sprouts, but the glass is all steamed up and I can only make out green leaves in there...maybe...tea? I hope it's tea. We've had enough problems with the authorities round here as it is. A miniature glacier is curling down a slope of the Uberpercolator's de rigeur chrome and into another slot just there...Daisy appears to be happily mooing her way through a trough of what makes England green and pleasant back in the kitchen, along with another, strangely bovine friend, who is turning his nose up at the grass and chewing through a bag of Yak Treats (what the hell do Yaks eat, anyway?), and a spinning rack of glass coffee bean hoppers is clicking around slowly over here...I think that's everything covered. Time to push the button.

WELL IT'S NICE TO KNOW THAT I CAN RELY ON A LITTLE CUSTOM EVEN WITH THE ERRATIC, NAY, ECCENTRIC OPENING HOURS WE'VE HAD LATELY, AND IT'S GOOD TO HEAR THE UBERPERCOLATOR BACK TO A REASONABLE VOLUME...only it's a right pain having to negotiate all the paperwork after a coffee morning. Environmental health writs, legal claims from passers-by for psychological damage, chemical outflows and even light pollution. Honestly, people these days.

Anyway. Coffee up!

First up is Adrian, who, whilst being fairly definite about his drink, an 'I'm innocent, I didn't do anything, don't know what you are talking about, really I don't-mocca-froppa-loppa-chino', hasn't declared which country he wants to drink it in, so we shall create a State of Uncertainty for him, as I haven't the foggiest clue what he's on about, but no doubt my wonderful fiancée shall enlighten us later...

Then Lady Green Fairy, with only the slightest question about the Café's extended absence, makes her request for an Earl Grey, which has been brewed from tips plucked from live tea plants inside the machine. No doubt other arrangements were made for the drying and whatnot. A range of 'Coffee Shop of Your Very Dreams' merchandise will no doubt shortly be forthcoming.

Lolly isn't fussed where he drinks it, but he wants a coffee cocktail, and he wants it strong. Well, here. haver a syrup espresso with a dollop of double yak cream, and we'll drop you off somewhere in the Himalayas with your bike so you can ride all the way down to say, Mumbai, and hitch home from there.

Mr. D wants his coffee iced by our mini-glacier and served up on the shores of Hawai'i, where he will find it to be one hell of a swim home...more Uberpercolator Glacier ice is used for Dani's frappe, who's hopefully okay enough to enjoy the view of the Pelopennese through the afternoon haze as we drop her off in the land of the forthcoming Olympics...and it's a short jaunt to deposit Karen in Hungary with her jeges kave which she can sip whilst leaning relaxedly against the stone parapet of a riverbank, trying to remember the way back to Pockless' faculty.

Dave would like a rich, dark, seductive coffee, covered with cream (courtesy of Daisy, not the Yak) and cherries. You can be dropped off in the middle of the Black, Black Forest. I hope your German is up to scratch..you'll need to explain to the authorities when they find you what exactly you're doing staggering through the woods, clothing torn, with your only camping and hiking equipment being a coffee mug...

Miss Shivery requests that her hot, hot chocolate be served in a round wide bowl a la francaise,and we'll drop her off at the top end of the Champs Elysées, and try and ignore the startled Frenchmen who seem to be overreacting at the sight of a Coffee Shop hovering thirty feet above the Arc de Triomphe. What's with them, huh? I thought Paris was meant to be the city of café culture. What's one more? Anyway, enjoy your stroll through gay Paris, Shivola.

Krissa, who, I can't help mentioning, has agreed to marry me, fancies popping over here for the day, and requests a milk-less cuppa chai. You can have that, my love, with bells on. Morris Dancing bells, to emphasise the whole Anglophileness of the experience.

Then we have Ian who knows exactly what he wants and isn't afraid to ask. Blue Mountain beans, check, served up...give the shop a few minutes to get there....served up on the 87th floor of the Shanghai Grand Hyatt. Again. What is it with these people? It's just a café. You'd think they'd never seen one before. 87th floor eightyshmeventh floor.

Finally...a large Americano for myself as the Coffee Shop makes it's final approach to the runway at New York JFK, where we will shortly be setting up a permanent franchise.

Now that we've all got our drinks and been thrown to the four corners of the earth...er...would anyone like a lift home?