Englishness
In which we can't complain
This post was originally written down the other day, in a notebook, sitting in a cafe with K. Post follows:
A homage to loading screens.
In which we can't complain
This post was originally written down the other day, in a notebook, sitting in a cafe with K. Post follows:
In which we eat roast beef
Today, of course, we should all be marching around with a bulldog on the end of a string, eating roast beef and Yorkshire puddings,* and generally Being Patriotic. It’s St. George’s Day, so all English people should rise up and be proud of their Englishness.
In which we refuse to watch the football
Apparently there’s some sort of international football competition coming around again. I’m going to do my best, after this post, not to mention it. As I might have said in the past, I don’t care about football at all. Neither does Big Dave, even though if you met him you’d probably expect him to be a supporter.* If there’s one thing both me and Big Dave dislike more than football, though, it’s the assumption that even though we don’t like football we must be interested in the World Cup. We get funny looks just because we don’t give a toss whether England win or lose.