Je Protest
‘THE British love of clubs and belonging to organisations knows no bounds.
What other nation would and indeed could have created the Womens Institute, held competitions for the best embroidered design on a napkin and swooned as Mrs Prendergras scored top marks with her marmalade compote?
And with clubs there must be a motto. French is a firm favourite, adding a sense of nobility from the Order of the Garter (Honi soit qui mal y pense), or Latin – the Order of Comperes (beneficio tuo et vale).
And, as such, the groups that have formed to picket the countrys oil refineries are looking for a unifying cry. Justice for truckers, a simple plea, and Support British Petrol. (That the latter should be accompanied by Truckers Do It With Yorkies would neatly display the Brits famed sense of humour and bind us further as an island race.)
But protest, alas, is not what it once was but with no cheap supermarket petrol there can be no petrol bombs and no trucks and so no fruit supplies severely dents the availability of rotten tomatoes.
But who is to blame for this dip in the voracity of British protest? Watt Tyler and the utterly unlovely Lord George Gordon both lost the day, but at least their gangs went armed and ready to fight.
What has happened in the intervening years to dull the British desire to battle?
Agincourt, Crecy and Poitiers are all..? poses the Government survey, narrowing the answer to a choice of three: a) football hooligans, b) cricket hooligans or c) date-rape drugs.
Its just a shame that with so much freedom and individualism on the hoof its usually takes a gaggle of French farmers burning sheep to teach us how to stand up for our rights.’
Posted: 15th, September 2005 | In: Reviews Comment | TrackBack | Permalink
