The first problem you find is at the airport

Apparently this 'Oxford' place is so small it doesn't even have an international airport. Or maybe you didn't look very closely - you'd booked this ticket as fast as possible, which meant you weren't paying much attention. Either way, you're going to have to use a bus to get to the place you're staying, and that means waiting for a while.

So you decide to explore Heathrow a bit. It's a pretty nice airport, as you'd expect from a major travel hub. You grab dinner at a French place, and the waiter and food are both pleasant enough. Oddly, there's no girls working there. A theme they're trying to keep up, maybe.

There's one thing of particular interest, though. A store selling tourist stuff. Souvenirs, like coins or little Big Ben statues or Irish girls.

That catches your eye. Irish, British, there's no real difference, right? And if you buy one at the airport, you'll at least get her duty-free. You've flown through Dubai enough times to know that - a big draw for the tourist industry there is man worshipers bred in the Middle East, where the local women tend to have less rights, and then sold off.

The Irish girl on display right now is about as stereotypical as you'd think. Red hair, blue eyes, skinny and pale, her hands are clasped behind her back and she's standing up straight as an arrow. Staring off into space, she doesn't respond to your prodding. Around her arm is a tag; it lists a surprisingly low price and "Made by Emerald Farm Co., Ireland. Warranty good for thirty days."

No freckles, disappointingly. She's wearing clothing, too, which is weird. It's a cheap gown that won't last a day without tears and rips, but still. Who gives a **** clothes? How are you supposed to inspect the goods?

"Please don't touch the merchandise, sir!" Apparently, you're not. A short, fat man waddles over to you, and looks up at you through his impossibly thick glasses before speaking again, "If you're interested in seeing what she's like all over, I've got another of the same model used for demos. She's being used right now, but if you can wai-"

"I'll take her", you interrupt. If you dislike her, you'll just return her.

The man brightens. "Excellent, sir! Can I see your passport?" He happily takes it from you, but the smile turns into a frown as he looks over your passport, "Sir, this isn't... We can only sell this model to residents of the UK."

And that's when you learn about Britain's miscegenation laws. See, British women are one of those ethnicities that everyone is fond of, like the Japanese, but their appeal and the high number of immigrants in recent years means that the government of the UK is rather worried about the British girl being bred out of existence. They don't want to be America, apparently. Of course, banning non-native ethnicities from breeding with the locals was rightfully decried as racist, and so they instead banned purebloods from leaving the British Isles.

Unfortunately, they convinced Ireland to do so too. And, unlike British girls, Irish ones have so few rights that they're sold in stores. Pure Irish are solely purchasable by citizens of Ireland or the UK, and maybe the EU - there's some confusion going on with the UK and those countries about trade, apparently.

You storm off after having all this explained to you, wondering one thing in particular. If they can't sell to international customers, why the hell is their shop set up in an international airport?