I like being British…most of the time. My patriotism mainly surges when the television-machine makes us Brits look good and then I can say ‘Yes, I was part of that…somehow!”
Like the Royal Wedding! 29 April 2011. Where were when you witnessed that beautiful moment? I’m talking about Pippa Middleton’s arse, of course. I was at a friends house party..thankfully sitting down. Now I’m not a Royalist, but stick a glass of Pimms in my hand, wave a flag in my face and show me a mind-blowing derriere and I’m one happy hypocrite.
And the Olympics in 2012! Despite the millions it cost and almost certain catastrophe predicted and encouraged by the tabloid press, the games were a huge success. Even the most skeptical of Brits seemed to warm up as soon as Danny Boyle gave us a sensory overload in THAT opening ceremony. I didn’t know one person who was bemoaning the games or wasn’t excitedly following an event they’d previously had no interest in…and I know 14 people! I loved it, it made me proud to be British.
And okay, both of those things happened in England, London to be specific. But there was something terribly British about the whole thing…more Union Jacks than you shake a stick at (with a Union Jack on the end) probably had something to do with it.
I remember thinking whilst watching the Olympics “just why is everyone having such a good time?” And then I realised. It was because there was barely a politician in sight. If anything it was a moment for the British people to reconnect with one another without worrying about Wanker A and Wanker B ruining the country with their blue and yellowy-orange coalition, with the vampiric Wanker C in red followed closely behind, stalking, cape ready to enfold them. They were all on holiday…and everyone was happier for it.
So, royal arses and sporting events aside, the one time that Britain unites seems to be around election time. But it’s all so much more of a gloomy affair, isn’t it? I don’t know about you but I get a sudden feeling of dread every time a local or general election looms. It’s not because I’m not interested or don’t want to have a say, but it’s because I feel I should know more than I do; about the economy, the military, the education system, what kind of material David Cameron’s humanoid skin suit is made out of. You know, all the important info. I try and get stuck in anyway and get my head around what is important to me. Thankfully this time that feeling of inadequacy wasn’t mine to be crippled by anyway, because I’m not Scottish.
I have found the build up to the referendum for Scottish Independence very interesting. Politics is about the decisions that affect our day to day and long term lives. Personally I am not happy that the Reptile King currently nesting in Downing Street (fact check. Do reptiles have nests? …*Googles*…yes they do!) makes the decisions for the entire country, living a heavily privileged and far-removed existence than that of the majority of the people he governs. But there is a difference between one hundred miles of motorway between him in London and me in Bristol and a whole other country having to allow ‘The Scaly One’ to make many decisions on behalf of the Scottish people.
So, part of me wanted Scotland to vote YES! Claim your independence. If I was living there I think I would do the same. Yes, there are problems to overcome by becoming independent, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to reclaim your country…
…and then on the other hand, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to completely balls it up.
So it’s not surprising they voted NO. Not when you consider the relentless fear-mongering the media has been spewing over the past month. Scottish residents have essentially been forecast a complete apocalypse if they dare to say YES. The reasons for this aggressive media approach? The major corporations that pretty much run Britain (they’ll be where the money comes from to fund the high-profile parties and their campaigns) do not want to lose Scotland as a vital partner in oil, military, tourism and tennis – let’s face it, until we get an English man or woman that can hit a tennis ball cleanly then we’re all happy to call Andy Murray British, not Scottish.
I’m not a political heavyweight – I’ll leave that to Eric Pickles (to the people at Have I Got News For You, that’s satire that is – HIRE ME!) – but I understand why people would fear this and therefore vote NO. Yet it was because I was removed from it, as I had no decision to make, that this creation of fear was all the more evident to me.
And now, in the re-United Kingdom, we have Wanker D that has joined the equation. The yellow and purple ‘everyman’ fronting UKIP potentially becoming PM in less than a year’s time is a scary prospect indeed. Yet his rise to power as come from FEAR. There’s a bit of a connection those that want to gain or retain power, isn’t there? They’re quite eager to scare the shit out of you to get to where they want to be.
Anyway, Scotland, it’s great to have you back…not that you actually went anywhere, but if there is one thing I’ve learned from you these past few weeks it’s that you got engaged with the decisions that affect you. You may not have been voting for a political party as such, but you decided to start a dialogue with each other and ultimately, for better or worse, you came up with a conclusive decision. An over 80% turnout is not to be sniffed at. I only hope that the rest of the United Kingdom can follow suit ahead of the general election in 2015 and through protest and activism start talking over the shouty games of fear that Wankers A-D keep playing, take a look at all the other representing parties (VOTE GREEN) so that whoever does get the keys to number ten knows that what we really want is to feel proud to be British again…just like when we first saw Pippa’s arse!
Notes from Ambigo Rock 