Jingoistic Principles

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Jingoistic Principles

All those of you who see blogging as a means to change the world - stick your hands up!

Hands up all those who see any old queue and join it.

Hands up and stand proud all those who see a queue at the Army Recruiting station and have a really tough time arguing with yourself to not join it but win the debate anyway and slope off to Fourbouys newsagents for the latest Jobseeker and a packet of 10 Royals.

Own up all of you who joined the anti-hunt campaign just because your vegan friends down the road are holding a midsummer garden party and Sophie Dahl will be there too so this is one event to so go and be seen at!

Hands up if you are part of the Range Rover ‘n Barbour ‘n Hunters wellies ‘n flat cap brigade because all the ‘right’ people, the tosser toffs, stockbrokers and marketing geeks are all made up and are pretending to be part of the royal echelon.

Fess up all of you who don’t read The Independent or Observer nor give a rat’s arse about the Range Rover ‘n Barbour ‘n Hunters wellies ‘n flat cap brigade or Burberry scarves, Gucci bags, Foxes or our Macca’s about to be record-breaking divorce settlement nor give a toss about Sophie Dahl, Kate Moss or McDonald’s veggie burgers or vegans in general who also see war as a necessary evil but being on the wrong end of a bullet or cannon fodder ain’t their style, and finally, hands up if you’d rather be soaking up the zzzz’s in an Ibeza holday apartment where all 16 of your best mates can all cram into 4 beds and kip off the excesses of the night before.

If any of you put your hand in the air to any one of the options above, you are a Jingoist. I am.

I am so shallow, my shadow has had to pack on the kilos in order to remain below me. I love and make a habit of following the latest craze, fad or self-indulgent indignant principle like Save The Liposuction Waste to make your chips in to prevent cultivation of fields of rape seed for veggie oil. Last week I signed up to Sponsor An Escargot that was orphaned when a truck drove over his parents who were too slow crossing the M6 at 5:30pm on a Friday evening.

I can get righteuosly indignant. I can. I know I should. I could but when is the issue. And at what is even more of an issue. I love Range Rovers, I have a really well worn Barbour that no longer stinks of wax, I own a pair of blue Hunters but do not own a flat cap. Oh I just thought of something I need to create an action campaign against - courdroy trousers.

Yes, who will join me to get courdroy trousers banned? I detest them and the young men who wear them with ‘country’ shirts which only the 60+ should be seen wearing. If you are old, I fully expect you to age yourself even further by donning courdroys, but for any male below 40 to put on a pair of courds is absolutley kak.

What other jingoistic principles can we apply?