A Nasty Little Rash

There seems to be a national outbreak of flags attached to cars, namely English flags.

While it must be commended that the English national soccer team have reached the world cup finals in South Africa, I am not sure where and to whom this display of patriotism is aimed. I am aware some incredibly well remunerated football players will be playing some 'games' of football on another continent, but why would that inspire someone to wedge a flag (or two) onto their car and parade down the high street looking like bulbous purple-headed tossers. They themselves are not involved and the players can't see them so why? It is a football match, there is nothing to celebrate, it is not an end to world poverty or deforestation, it does not herald peace in our time or a breakthrough in cold water fusion, it is simply twenty two grown men kicking a leather bladder round an area of grassland. Why the need to lose erectile control?

No doubt if England were to win the title of world champions and their supporters had just about long enough to wash their soiled underwear the team individuals would be heralded home as heroes and paraded around cities for all to admire and prostrate themselves before. All this before and potentially after stuff is sickening me to the pit of my stomach.

Of course I would like our national team to do well, of course I will support and watch our team, as I would Scotland, Wales, or Ireland, but in a restrained way. Never before has the need for our national character of understatement, good sportsmanship (for supporters as much as players), and quiet undemonstrative support been more required.

Last week I helped a young man, his wife and their child plan a garden, I rarely help in design but this young man's requirements were specific. His flower and herb beds had to be raised up a height and accessible by wheelchair for he has no legs, in his words "the best parts of them are still in Afghanistan" there was no heroes welcome for him. There are thousands of our young men and women risking their lives in anything but a game, many of whom I am sure will be supporting their footballing heroes on another distant continent 'playing a game' of football, however they do not risk their lives and limbs or their mental and emotional wellbeing. Our children, for to me that is what they seem, do, and they are the real heroic souls giving all but paid little. The young man I mention above is the third such person it has been my honour to meet, not all were as seriously injured, but their risks were the same.

So forget the flags, forget the teeshirts, mugs, ashtrays and St Georges fucking badges and give what you would have spent on such irrelevant froth to the charity below.

www.helpforheroes.org.uk

AT; It is not my intention to diminish or ignore the contribution made by the people of Wootton Bassett, but we have to take some responsibility as a nation and surely not allow the good people of this little town to solely provide the outward display of our national conscience.