Fifteen years ago today we landed at Heathrow with two cats and started this Great British adventure. Since then both cats have died, we’ve lived in 7 houses then bought the 8th one, I’ve had jobs at 3 universities (Cambridge, Oxford, Birmingham), Jackie has become a medical librarian, we’ve got another cat, and I’ve run a little over 25,000 miles in this country stopping at 2676 pubs along the way. It can’t go on forever, but 15 more would be nice.
The Queen’s party was what we expected. American press will have shown Americans videos of a selection of Royalist twats and made it sound like everyone here feels happy and, frankly, blessed that we have a monarch. Here’s what you actually see on the ground.
West Brom went all out by actually cleaning up the empty beer cans, half eaten kebabs, and puke Wednesday night. Not a sign of any celebratory decorations from the council were anywhere to be seen.
First ones I found were the flags in the Hop Pole. Later, we spotted the betting shop across the way all tarted up.
The backwards N and the missing second E made the healthy fast food place festive:
Decoron, where we get most of our paint, went with wallpapered corgis:
No one really begrudges the old lady her party — you know she drove a lorry during the war, right? But, the idea of royalty in a modern republic or even in our four tenuously bound countries is both grating and embarrassing. A ragged union flag and some litter are a fitting metaphor:
The UK “Government” is in the process of disuniting the the nations and while the Scots are probably first out the Welsh can’t be far behind. This Welsh nationalist graffito has turned up on the canals in recent days, as a matter of fact.
Meanwhile, it is the last day for voting in the US. Ever, possibly. Tra-la-la.
I haven’t missed an election I was first eligible to vote (Summer 1980) ever in my entire life. That unbroken streak dating to the Georgia Primaries in 1980 came to an end with the EU Parliamentary Elections, today. We applied for our postal ballots in good time some arrived for previous occupants but ours were only sent out on the day we left for a long trip — I/we have been disenfranchised by the Birmingham Elections board.
Some of the best incidents so far in this current election predate the whole Brexit fiasco. Top among these is the “Fuck off back to Toad Hall” chant at Nigel Farage’s rally five years ago; in this, some boys with no political agenda (but probably copious quantities of industrial cider) broke up the speaker’s event in a frankly endearing and simple way…he was prepared for hecklers to attack him for his policies and personality but not mindlessly about his appearance. Grand.
I had planned to vote strategically to ensure a second referendum NOT because I support the EU — which I pointedly do not — but because I sick of the way democracy itself seems to have been perverted such that the vote was a good thing and now that it is over and only 3 years ago nothing could possibly have changed and a marginal majority has spoken once and for all so get over it. Yes, we are pro-democracy in theory, but that is SOOOOOOOOO 2016, grandpa.
And, of course I’ve got money riding on this. Ladbrokes will always respect your ballot.
I really think these guys should have saved their money on printing and postage:
Endless British Pub Crawl (Part 3) 