Tuesday - Cry God for Harry, England and St George!
The plucky lads of Enger-land take on those foul Swedes tonight, in a world cup clash of no importance at all. World cup fever has stretched even to these quiet coastal communities and is much in evidence.
It made me proud to see the cross of St George fluttering proudly atop the mobility scooters in the area. These things are bloody everywhere round here, leading me to believe that either there are a lot of infirm ex-fishermen in the area, or that they are lazy and frankly taking the piss.
The two pictured are, I believe, part of the Norfolk Coastal Mobility Scooter Defence Force. If the Germans did invade, these plucky souls would steer their chariots onto the streets and hold up 240 tonnes of panzer tank by meandering at a dawdling bloody pace, giving every indication of being a senile but good-natured buffoon in charge of a battery powered chariot that would have the ankles off you if you're not careful.
A pub in a nearby village had put together a perfect storm of footie entertainment. A big screen, Bud at a quid a bottle and a hog roast. Let's face it, they might as well have just erected a huge sign saying 'chavs welcome' and been done with it.
Stayed for a while but, frankly, when England score and I'm the only person leaping to my feet screaming 'yesssssssssssss' and then I'm told to sit down by somebody behind me, I know it's time to go.
And I don't even LIKE footie. It's not as if I know any of the players or give a toss about the result, but I know a lot about showing support. It's all about passion, and pride and belief and a hell of a lot of other words that have been kidnapped by marketing suits to flog chocolate. Truth is, it's the right thing to do to jump up and down and get excited and, when you're doing something and some tosser behind you says 'the team can't hear you you know', then the alternatives are to finish your beer and go or to burn the word 'traitor' into his forehead with boiling fat from the hog roast. What could be more English than that?
I bet it would have been bloody good fun to watch the war on the big screen. Imagine seeing the pictures of Baghdad being shelled or a warship firing off a tomahawk missile at nigh on a screen six feet wide! Cool. It's wasted on sporting events, it should be kept for wars. Wars and musicals. Next time war is declared, I'm going to mobilise a marquee, a shed-load of bargain beer and a hog roast and set the thing up on Parliament green.
It made me proud to see the cross of St George fluttering proudly atop the mobility scooters in the area. These things are bloody everywhere round here, leading me to believe that either there are a lot of infirm ex-fishermen in the area, or that they are lazy and frankly taking the piss.
The two pictured are, I believe, part of the Norfolk Coastal Mobility Scooter Defence Force. If the Germans did invade, these plucky souls would steer their chariots onto the streets and hold up 240 tonnes of panzer tank by meandering at a dawdling bloody pace, giving every indication of being a senile but good-natured buffoon in charge of a battery powered chariot that would have the ankles off you if you're not careful.
A pub in a nearby village had put together a perfect storm of footie entertainment. A big screen, Bud at a quid a bottle and a hog roast. Let's face it, they might as well have just erected a huge sign saying 'chavs welcome' and been done with it.
Stayed for a while but, frankly, when England score and I'm the only person leaping to my feet screaming 'yesssssssssssss' and then I'm told to sit down by somebody behind me, I know it's time to go.
And I don't even LIKE footie. It's not as if I know any of the players or give a toss about the result, but I know a lot about showing support. It's all about passion, and pride and belief and a hell of a lot of other words that have been kidnapped by marketing suits to flog chocolate. Truth is, it's the right thing to do to jump up and down and get excited and, when you're doing something and some tosser behind you says 'the team can't hear you you know', then the alternatives are to finish your beer and go or to burn the word 'traitor' into his forehead with boiling fat from the hog roast. What could be more English than that?
I bet it would have been bloody good fun to watch the war on the big screen. Imagine seeing the pictures of Baghdad being shelled or a warship firing off a tomahawk missile at nigh on a screen six feet wide! Cool. It's wasted on sporting events, it should be kept for wars. Wars and musicals. Next time war is declared, I'm going to mobilise a marquee, a shed-load of bargain beer and a hog roast and set the thing up on Parliament green.
1 Comments:
And I thought Americans were lazy....I need one of those scooters.
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