These days as I walk around Keynsham I feel good. The reason is quite simple: the flag of St George. It is not because I am fiercely patriotic; I am not. It is not because I am happy to see more of our hard earned cash going to that penniless small business Esso! I am certainly not, and nor is it because I am a massive football fan.
It is because this flag, my flag, is again flying proudly from the cars and houses of good decent folk all over this country. Yes no doubt the right wing pillocks who tried to hijack it and use it as a symbol of hatred are flying it too. But they are in the minority. I am seeing the good people of our town flying that flag for all the right reasons, we have reclaimed it and given it back itís rightful meaning.
The confused do-gooders who tried to tarnish our flag because they were too gutless to take on the real wrong doers take note. Especially the idiot councillor in Bath who forced the copper in his office to remove his tiny flag because she could see it from her window and found it offensive. YOU were wrong and you were spineless.
The people in this country are no less entitled to have and display their flag as a symbol of pride than anyone else. Bigots take note; get lost, we donít want you and our flag doesnít want you. It is ours, we are proud of what it symbolises whether that is football or whatever and we are taking it back.
ELI'S CARTOON #2
Click to enlarge to readable size
So to you all that are flying the flag for the football, you are brilliant. When the last ball of the last game has been kicked, donít abandon St George. He represents all that is still good about our country, and there is still much to be proud of. Let's keep that flag flying and make sure that the divvies who would use it as a symbol for their lunacy have to look elsewhere.
The Tale of Orson Wellsway
It is generally well known locally that one of our better known residents, Mr Orson Wellsway, was a regular customer at that fine sartorial emporium; Edward Jollís menswear. What is less well known is the reason for his frequent visits. Most days would see the jolly Mr Wellsway entering that splendid purveyor of menís fashion wear and accessories, but he was never seen to leave again. The reason for this is the dark secret within that shop, kept until itís untimely demise earlier this year, and which I am now about to reveal with further shocking revelations.
At the rear of the shop was an area kept aside for exclusive customers such as Mr Wellsway, and governed by a strict code of secrecy. Within this area were racks of clothing and costumery and a small changing area behind a maroon curtain. The privileged clientele, for a small fee, could select an outfit for the day, which they would try on and, if satisfied, exit the shop with a new identity.
'Ahhh, good to see you Mr Wellsway. Would Sir like to try on the Anne Robinson costume?'
This explains why Mr Wellsway appeared never to leave. Rumours abound that during his long life in the town Mr Wellsway successfully became a small, bearded, aggressive traffic warden, a bingo caller at the now notorious hall, the drunk outside the Trout, and even Tony Target for the day! His well publicised drowning in 1995 at the park weir was due to an ill-fated attempt to be Johnny Weismuller playing Tarzan.
Although this club was secretive and exclusive, it has been suggested that it inspired the well-known childrenís cartoon of the 1970ís; Mr Benn. Indeed, the legendary Mr Joll even bore an uncanny resemblance to the unassuming, fez-toting shopkeeper in the show.
Other famous members of the club have been more elusive, but it seems that there was an even darker side and purpose. The racehorse Shergar was almost certainly smuggled into the shop where he emerged soon after in a Ďbargain bucketí. The Notorious Lord Lucan was secreted into the store in the dead of night by government agents, later emerging as the pianist Liberace. Before his end he again paid a visit and left as, and has ever after remained, our glorious editor: Mr Albert Mills! (see cartoon above).
After the regretful closure of the shop, the duty was transferred to the many fine charity shops on our High Street. They have done a fine job of dressing people up to assume new and bizarre identities, a fact that has not gone unnoticed by the government.
It seems that our beloved main drag is the primary entry point into the UK by persons seeking asylum. Unmarked lorries are seen unloading barrels of Eastern European families into the shops via Back Lane, these then follow the routine of Mr Wellsway, emerging soon after as scientists, politicians, musicians and old people, who then melt seamlessly into the local area.