What with all the omnishambles of Brexit, I got to thinking about what our national identity really is. When you think about it, we have some pretty bizarre national symbols, but ultimately what does it mean to be British / English, etc? See what you think of this...
Our national dish is curry, true,
Our Saint is George who dragons slew,
From Yorkshire fields we get our brew,
Three lions our symbol. Lions?! Who knew?
By immigrants our bricks were laid
Our wealth has come from slaving trade
The days of Empire slowly fade
Heroic failures? The Light Brigade.
Tolerance is our British right
Unless of course your skin ain’t white
Invented football, now we’re shite
Enjoy a pint, the match, a fight.
So what is red on England’s flag?
Screaming headline of national rag?
Talking weather is our bag,
But which celeb has had a shag?
Magpie nation, bloods have melt,
Made of German, French and Celt,
A sense of duty, strongly felt,
The cards we feel unfairly dealt.
To be a Brit or English, Scot,
Welsh or Irish, melting pot,
Nothing matters, not a jot,
But the jokes which some have got.
And now we head off on our tod,
For England, Harry and for God,
The fields which once great folk have trod,
Are turning now to muddy sod.
We sing Jerusalem, loudly shout,
Our royal family’s blood is kraut
Our country voted, wanting out
Not Europe now, we show our doubt.
A corner of some homely field,
Where priest or hermit once have kneeled,
That’s where I’ll lay my sword and shield,
Before our true blood is revealed.