The Grand Unified Theory of British Dudes (Unabridged)

I have a theory.
I don't want to be too bold or hubristic, but I call it:
The Grand Unified Theory of British Dudes.

The theory is this:
At least once in your life (probably more)
you will encounter a Britsih guy sleeping on your couch,
in your hallway, or possibly even your breakfast nook.

You see, the British spirit of colonialism hasn't died,
it runs through the veins of every British dude.
He won't realize it, because it can only be expressed while asleep,
which explains why they usually turn up in the funniest of places.

Once said British dude has conquered your couch,
he will return back to his native Britain,
often leaving nothing but his illegitimate children behind.
But be careful, colonialism isn't THAT easy to abort.

One morning, after wiping the sleep from your eyes
and padding barefoot along your uncarpeted (and therefore, NOT British) hallway,
you will get a craving for tea and head to your breakfast nook.
There you will find your old pal, asleep and drooling in a pile of buttered crumpet crumbs.

What can you do?
He's already stolen your tea with intention trading it for several gold pieces and a leggy wench,
but learn from history, friends.
Just as the British set up the tea and spice racket between Asia and that pestilent little island,
or between itself and the native tribes in the untouched-by-history Americas,
you will either be infected with plague, scurvy, or as I said before, British progeny.