Today was the first day since Friday that I haven’t been obsessively checking the Guardian and Twitter, trying to compute what has happened and what might happen. But today I’ve had a productive day, haven’t looked at the news or Twitter much at all, and so in my own personal world, things returned to normal; and by normal I mean making dubstep remixes of traditional folk songs. I appreciate that this may not seem particularly normal to most people.
You can hear the fruits of my labour at the very first Young’uns In The Mix, on Saturday 20th August, at the Folk East festival in Suffolk. I’ll also put it on The Young’uns Podcast. Talking of which, I really need to get the first Young’uns podcast of the year released very soon. I said that the new series would be coming in April, but I’ve been so busy that it hasn’t happened. But, you know, it’s not as if it was a promise. I didn’t get a massive poster and emblazon the news all over The Young’uns van, and then pretend I didn’t; although, if I was pretending I didn’t, then I suppose I’d say that I didn’t, hence the pretending element, but, I didn’t, stop trying to trip me up.
Yes, this is what I mean when I say that things have returned to normal: having pretend arguments with myself for my daily blog. Completely normal. Hmm, I think Farage was right about me; I’m not one of the ordinary people. To be honest, I’m not really that decent either. You don’t want to know what I’m doing while I’m writing this; it’s a wonder I can still use the keyboard. Although maybe I should stop. I might give myself an injury, and I wouldn’t want to put unnecessary strain on the NHS. Give it a few months and I’ll be fine doing highly indecent and undisclosed, and potentially danger-inducing stunts, without worrying about putting a strain on our health service. But I appreciate it’s going to take at least a couple of months before all the foreigners leave and the money starts rolling into the hospitals. Then it’ll be amazing. We’ll all be deliberately getting injured just for fun, and also to take advantage of the luxury hospital services. Hopefully they won’t serve caviar for every meal. I mean, it’s nice, but I wouldn’t want it everyday. A bit of satire for you there my friends.
It’s not what you’d describe as “biting satire,” but that’s because I’m aware of the health risks of satire bites, and I think it would be irresponsible of me to give you any, in case it results in you needing to go to Accident and Emergency, thus putting unnecessary strain on our NHS. But in a couple of months when the foreigners leave and the money comes rolling in, etc etc.
Yesterday I watched the England match with Ben and Elsa. It was an odd atmosphere, and we all admitted to each other that we weren’t really that bothered about England winning the match. The political events of recent days, and people’s attitudes to none-English people had made us rather disillusioned with the country. Plus, Elsa is French. Obviously she’ll be leaving soon anyway, in order to free up NHS resources. Am I right Hartlepool? Looking at my Twitter timeline, it seemed as if we weren’t the only people feeling this way, kind of wanting us to lose. As the game went on, and the Iceland goals came in, we started rooting more and more for Iceland. I suppose I wanted it to be a slap in the face to all those idiots I’d heard on the radio and TV, saying things like, “we’ve got England back for the English people,” “it’s time to stand on our own two feet and show the world what we’re made of,” and “now we can make Britain great again,” Obviously, this slap in the face would be a figurative slap in the face. As much as I’d like to give them a literal slap in the face, I wouldn’t want to cause any injuries that might put unnecessary strain on the NHS. Maybe in a couple of months when all the foreigners have left and the money starts rolling into the hospitals. Although, I wouldn’t want to give the stupid, patriotic pricks the joy of being able to live it up in the luxurious hospitals, being waited on hand and foot by their own personal butler.
Again, checking my twitter timeline indicated that others were also getting a weird pleasure from our apparently great nation being beaten by a country with a population the size of Wakefield. Obviously, the truth is that we let Iceland win, to thank them for being the first country to come forward after our Brexit, and offer us a trade deal. England clearly thought that we should be magnanimous and show our appreciation by deliberately playing shit and letting them win. Because, as Farage said, we are decent people.
But anyway, it’s not the winning, it’s the taking part that counts; although, clearly this country has chosen neither to win or take part. We are out. Out of the EU and out of the Euros. Still, who needs the Euros when we’ve got something a lot more interesting happening on our TVs right now, as this parliamentary debacle rolls on. Get a few of your mates round, stick on the news channel, maybe play a drinking game to spice things up a bit: take a drink every time a labour politician resigns, or every time someone reneges on a key pledge of the campaign, or every time someone says there isn’t a plan. Although, actually, maybe best stay off the drink for the time being. You wouldn’t want to put unnecessary strain on the NHS due to alcoholic related injuries or illness. But in a couple of months, once all the foreigners have left and the money comes rolling into the hospitals, then you can drink as much as you want. In fact, we’ll have so much money that they’ll probably serve free booze in the hospital, along with the caviar. A bit of slightly nipping satire for you there my friends.