Flying the flag(s)

World cup fever is sweeping the nation like bird flu going through a convention of chicken-fuckers in a sealed environment. The BBC News web-site has some corking photographs from ‘citizen journalists’ (i.e. people with camera phones) of houses or other areas (pubs and work spaces mainly, oh, and Staffordshire bull terriers, and kids) that have been decorated in national colours. These, I think, are the same people that have too many Christmas lights on their house and are now in competition to see how many St George Crosses they can have on their houses and indeed how big they can be.

Not so at chez moi. In an attempt to dodge the footie a select band of intimates have been invited over for canapés. I believe the staff may have a television receiver on, to watch some association football.

The lady of the house has entered into the spirit of the tournament however and, after a visit to the local party shop, has returned with what can only be describes as bunting.

Rather than a string of SGCs, we have a string of 36 flags, one each for each nation competing. The first one on the string…Iran. Oh great, so (among other flags) I shall be flying the Iranian flag, a jaunty little number with a scimitar and a verse from the Koran on it. I only hope that my guests will be able to get past the mob that will form at my door, consisting of neighbours anxious to push dog-shit through the letterbox and police anxious to boot the same door in and look for terrorists. Of course, I also have the Brazilian flag on the bunting, meaning they will shoot first and ask questions later.

Also on the bunting - the stars an stripes. These days, when the stars and stripes is sold outside of the USA it comes pre-impregnated with paraffin to facilitate ease of burning by angry mobs.

Maybe the thing to do is just fly the Swiss flag, thank Christ they’re in the tournament.