IDENTITY CRISIS: Would St. George mind if the day of the English was less Queen Vic and bowler hats, more corner shop and jerk chicken?
ST. GEORGE. Mythical? Religious?
He is supposed to be the symbol of English patriotism. In a nation where religion is placed on the backburner in wait of tragedy and despair, it intrigues to know the loyal bearers of St. George’s flag would never let you slip a bad word about him - at least not before breaking a few ribs and dislocating a jaw.
He wasn’t English, in fact he never really fought a dragon yet the simple minds of the English of olde times have captured a much-needed hero and symbol of national pride... even if they do share him with our old foes - the Germans.
It is those very simple minds of a very simple people that have evolved to become penchant to myths the proportion of King Arthur, Robin Hood, Harry Potter and the acceptance of a simple Turkish religious man as the saviour of the true English dream.
A rather possibly shy and retiring little man has been transformed into a knight in shining armour, fighting a fierce fire-breathing dragon as he hoists the red cross on a white banner in this noble act of bravey for all the English people.
Oh, and not forgetting that this once Turkish holy man is now a clean-shaven, blue-eyed, black-haired, white-skinned European of chiseled appearance who may even now speak the King’s English.
In Germany, he must be the same only with blonde locks, bigger muscles, an accent that reminds you of cheesy pornos while waving a completely different flag above his head.
I’ve never understood the idea of patron saints. Well, actually I understand the idea, just not the need.
Nations have become so self-absorbed, they can’t even share the same religious identity anymore. “Oh, we have the same faith, let’s create personal saints so there’s something to separate us”.
The wars that have been fought in the name of national saints as blood has dripped down the shafts of fallen national flags helps to cement the belief that excessive national pride prevents progression.
Glance at the English dream today. The name and symbol of St. George still runs strong but not through the blood of all Englishmen.
The symbol of the red cross has been inappropriately embraced and marred by the very people who wouldn’t give their daughters to the real St. George if he got on all fours and begged.
Racists, fascists, hooligans, war-mongers, the arrogant and the selfish.
As for St. George - from Turk, to over-ambitious super-hero, to a man on the dole shouldering the blame of the world’s problems on the ‘Pakis’.
I may be English by birth, I may be English in every way too regardless of how I live my life or how I do things, but I won’t be flying a flag for St. George.
I won’t be out there attaching flags to taxi cabs so that the Asian drivers don’t get attacked by rowdy revellers who want to force an English pride on all and sundry. I won’t be waving red roses and watching some old woman dress up as Queen Victoria while a man with a bowler hat wiggles his false moustache.
A day to celebrate this nation and all in it does not need stale reminders of the past which leave a bitter taste in the mouths of pensioners longing for a pre-war all-white Britain. A day that enrages the ethnic minorities, who have given so much, by revising the symbols of empire and colonisation.
Sure, I’ll wave the flag and celebrate the day but only if they change the flag and instead of that pompus Empress, have folk dress up as 1950s Afro-Caribbean nurses and Asian shopkeepers. How about Irish factory workers or Eastern European bus drivers?
Can we replace, refashion and redefine because if we can’t, then St. George’s Day is not for everyone and if it’s not for everyone, we have a problem.
You can’t tell people what England is when they’re the ones building it around you.
He is supposed to be the symbol of English patriotism. In a nation where religion is placed on the backburner in wait of tragedy and despair, it intrigues to know the loyal bearers of St. George’s flag would never let you slip a bad word about him - at least not before breaking a few ribs and dislocating a jaw.
He wasn’t English, in fact he never really fought a dragon yet the simple minds of the English of olde times have captured a much-needed hero and symbol of national pride... even if they do share him with our old foes - the Germans.
It is those very simple minds of a very simple people that have evolved to become penchant to myths the proportion of King Arthur, Robin Hood, Harry Potter and the acceptance of a simple Turkish religious man as the saviour of the true English dream.
A rather possibly shy and retiring little man has been transformed into a knight in shining armour, fighting a fierce fire-breathing dragon as he hoists the red cross on a white banner in this noble act of bravey for all the English people.
Oh, and not forgetting that this once Turkish holy man is now a clean-shaven, blue-eyed, black-haired, white-skinned European of chiseled appearance who may even now speak the King’s English.
In Germany, he must be the same only with blonde locks, bigger muscles, an accent that reminds you of cheesy pornos while waving a completely different flag above his head.
I’ve never understood the idea of patron saints. Well, actually I understand the idea, just not the need.
Nations have become so self-absorbed, they can’t even share the same religious identity anymore. “Oh, we have the same faith, let’s create personal saints so there’s something to separate us”.
The wars that have been fought in the name of national saints as blood has dripped down the shafts of fallen national flags helps to cement the belief that excessive national pride prevents progression.
Glance at the English dream today. The name and symbol of St. George still runs strong but not through the blood of all Englishmen.
The symbol of the red cross has been inappropriately embraced and marred by the very people who wouldn’t give their daughters to the real St. George if he got on all fours and begged.
Racists, fascists, hooligans, war-mongers, the arrogant and the selfish.
As for St. George - from Turk, to over-ambitious super-hero, to a man on the dole shouldering the blame of the world’s problems on the ‘Pakis’.
I may be English by birth, I may be English in every way too regardless of how I live my life or how I do things, but I won’t be flying a flag for St. George.
I won’t be out there attaching flags to taxi cabs so that the Asian drivers don’t get attacked by rowdy revellers who want to force an English pride on all and sundry. I won’t be waving red roses and watching some old woman dress up as Queen Victoria while a man with a bowler hat wiggles his false moustache.
A day to celebrate this nation and all in it does not need stale reminders of the past which leave a bitter taste in the mouths of pensioners longing for a pre-war all-white Britain. A day that enrages the ethnic minorities, who have given so much, by revising the symbols of empire and colonisation.
Sure, I’ll wave the flag and celebrate the day but only if they change the flag and instead of that pompus Empress, have folk dress up as 1950s Afro-Caribbean nurses and Asian shopkeepers. How about Irish factory workers or Eastern European bus drivers?
Can we replace, refashion and redefine because if we can’t, then St. George’s Day is not for everyone and if it’s not for everyone, we have a problem.
You can’t tell people what England is when they’re the ones building it around you.
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