We're taking a bit of a breather while the world rearranges its underpants. Meanwhile, the other blog is here.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Cry Harry and... oh forget it

Dragging my way out of work towards the railway station i have to pass The Heretical Kumquat on Pardendale Road. St. George's Day provokes a burst of patriotic pride as hordes of the great unwashed lounged around on the pavement in their singlets, wonky red crosses painted on their faces. The best to celebrate This Great Nation they propped their beer bellies on the kerb and swilled cheap meths down their gullets.

I quickened my pace as I passed them by. All the time suppressing the violent urge to turn to the rabble and shout:

"How about the poor dragon, you bastards!"

3 comments:

Madame DeFarge said...

I have the most wonderful wv - hobladiz - which makes me want to sing 'Obladi, oblada'. Sad really.

St. G's day went largely unremarked in the anteroom of power down here. One gentleman wore a t-shirt covered with a St. George's cross. And I think the canteen served cottage pie. We embrace our multi-culturalism.

having my cake said...

There were lots of cars flying the flag where I live, but that was about it. Is there a connection between St George and the Welsh dragon?

Kevin Musgrove said...

Mme. dF: most things usually go unremarked round here, they're so backward-looking and disorganised.

Ms. Cake: I think it was just idle gossip after they'd been papped in The Ivy.