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Wanderers Ways. Neil Thompson 1961-2021

St George's Day


no balls

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They were doing something on the roof of Clitheroe castle today as I walked by. Not a clue what like but they were wearing crusader outfits (not randy crawford's mates)

 

All the local school kids go there on SGD in fancy dress on Dragon Hunts.

 

No kowtowing to the wet-eared liberals in East Lancs.

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Henry V

'I wear it for a memorable honour,

For I am Welsh, you know,

Good countryman'

 

(He was also a Plantagenet, so half French, but aligned kinship with Edward, Black Prince of Wales)

 

Churchill - well we all know how proud he was of his American mother and heritage.

 

Orwell - I suggest you look at the Lion and the Unicorn - Socialism and the English Genius; a great man who questioned the very nature of what it is to be English in the gathering storm. Also, pretty much a socialist.

 

Brooke - well, yes a more heartfelt rendering to one's homeland you'd be hard pressed to find. But overall the war poets were hardly tub thumping nationalists.

 

As for Rhodes - didn't he spend most of his adult life in South Africa and was pro-expansion of the British Empire at the suppression of the indigenous people? I only know what I've heard based on that ludicrous quote that's attributed to him, so perhaps he was a lovely man.

 

Not anti- English at all, just hate nationalism. It means nothing to me really and a lot of nationalist rhetoric can be taken wholly out of context.

 

But happy St George's Day!

 

 

 

 

It was not part of their blood,

It came to them very late,

With long arrears to make good,

When the English began to hate.

They were not easily moved,

They were icy-willing to wait,

Till every count should be proved,

Ere the English began to hate.

 

Their voices were even and low,

Their eyes were level and straight.

There was neither sign nor show,

When the English began to hate.

It was not preached to the crowd,

It was not taught by the State.

No man spoke it aloud,

When the English began to hate.

It was not suddenly bred,

It will not swiftly abate,

Through the chill years ahead,

When Time shall count from the date,

That the English began to hate.

 

(Rudyard Kipling) 

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So you are quoting a Kipling poem written by a father who lost a son in a war he felt futile and raging against an enemy through grief? Hardly a banner most of use would want to gather behind and then there's his famous line in Epitaph to War; 'If any question why we died, tell them, because our Father's lied.' 

 

You also quote Kipling and Orwell both of whom had very different ideas about nationhood to each other.

 

Perhaps try and get a little background and perspective on your quotes - especially if you are holding up literary luminaries to hold up a concept of jingoistic nationalism which I believe to be so far removed from what it actually means to be English.

 

Looks like a right knees up in the office though.

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So you are quoting a Kipling poem written by a father who lost a son in a war he felt futile and raging against an enemy through grief? Hardly a banner most of use would want to gather behind and then there's his famous line in Epitaph to War; 'If any question why we died, tell them, because our Father's lied.' 

 

You also quote Kipling and Orwell both of whom had very different ideas about nationhood to each other.

 

Perhaps try and get a little background and perspective on your quotes - especially if you are holding up literary luminaries to hold up a concept of jingoistic nationalism which I believe to be so far removed from what it actually means to be English.

 

Looks like a right knees up in the office though.

 

 

Knees up? Living in Crawley fucked up your perspective sonny. No Chas and Dave fans here pal - Bolton, Manchester, Leeds and Newcastle. 

 

The day I take (or need) advice from a hand wringing liberal, artsy fartsy choc ice technician will be the day I become a gay, Islamic tree hugger.

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Knees up? Living in Crawley fucked up your perspective sonny. No Chas and Dave fans here pal - Bolton, Manchester, Leeds and Newcastle. 

 

The day I take (or need) advice from a hand wringing liberal, artsy fartsy choc ice technician will be the day I become a gay, Islamic tree hugger.

 

Not asking you to take advice, just read between the lines a little bit my friend.

 

Sorry when I said knees up I meant a load of old blokes eating lunch in a work's kitchen with a beach towel for company.

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Black peas on another thread, homemade meat and potato pie on this? Is it bommy neet already?

 

Surely Roast Beef with all the trimmings and Bramley apple crumble and custard, for afters, would be the 'tradtional' (as in I've just made this 'tradition' up on the spot, now) St. George's Day fayre? Either that or a elephant leg kebab from The Nile with ironic requests for surplus armywear and ceremonial daggers while you wait.

 

:)

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Not asking you to take advice, just read between the lines a little bit my friend.

 

Sorry when I said knees up I meant a load of old blokes eating lunch in a work's kitchen with a beach towel for company.

 

 

Like I inferred, who gives a fuck what you think? Still, you amused CWP as does the nodding dog in the back of his Morris Marina.

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