Starbuck's coming home
Being an intolerant unpatriotic old duffer, the toxic outbreak of England flags that are fluttering from every other fracking car's windows has been raising my blood pressure somewhat of late.
So it was with great pleasure that myself and Unit 5 drove back from Bristol this evening, having spent the weekend there chez Unit 2 and Unit 3 (and their wonderful toddling toddler Unit 4). BECAUSE THE ENGLAND-FRANCE EURO 2004 GAME HAD SWEPT THE ROADS CLEAR OF ST GEORGE'S CROSSES! Sweet bliss.
I'm not averse to a bit of national pride (though I'm even less averse to inter-national pride). Maybe the problem is that, for me, it still feels stained with nationalistic sentiment. But its probably just that I don't like football much.
Whatever, I must sign off for now. I've got to go tar and feather myself. I'm not a proper man, you know...