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