Blighted

Such division is created when the subject of patriotism rears its head. Conversations that often follow veer towards nationalism and even uglier accusations. All because you dare to say that you are patriotic. It is a bold move to deem yourself patriotic. Current culture would have you feel guilty for saying that you were proud to come from the country that you do. Our banks are greedy, our government is corrupt, the very foundations on which our country is based on are crumbling, leaving its inhabitants feeling unsteady and worried.

The things that we were taught to have faith in have failed us. We sit and stare at the news channel. The ticker-tape scrolls across the bottom of our television like an asp, telling us of things that we don’t want to be true. We have become accustomed to sadness. Another teenager is murdered in a foreign country, another member of the clergy is arrested, another faceless suit apologises for giving himself enough money to save a developing city, yet he fails to give it back. Are we supposed to sit there, with our commemorative mugs and our crumpled workclothes, and sigh? Are we supposed to be okay with this?

But that isn’t Britain. That is the result of the people who we allow to represent us. You may not have voted for them, you may dismiss religion, you may be an upstanding citizen, and because of that, you should not have to put up with this. But you shall, because it is much easier than getting up and creating the Britain worth being patriotic about.

I, incidentally, like being British. I like the fact that Britain is responsible for James Bond, the Burberry print, sandwiches, cricket, Shakespeare, roundabouts, Kate Moss and the word “wanker”, amongst many other things. Britain is host to fields of yellow and green, bottomless lakes, snow-capped mountains and cavernous valleys. Our country is steeped in history. The very houses we live in are older than some countries. We can walk to our nearest church and be met with more antiquity and sense of the past in that one building than you would ever find in the whole of northern America. Our values are bizarre and brilliant; our equal love and hate for queuing, and for Marmite, and for so many other silly things, makes us unique.

William Blake did not have to overlook the oil industry or gun crime when writing 'Jerusalem', and so it must have been a breeze to cobble together. But he did have the Napoleonic Wars and the end of the Stuart era to deal with, which brings me to my point. Everywhere has its problems. You can’t idealise a country where 660 people live in every square mile. Overcrowding is not a universal selling point of our “green and pleasant land”, is it? We also have a shocking transport system, in comparison with others. Well, you know what they say about Mussolini. Of course you do, you’re British.

However, we could be like India, who has 50% more people per square mile to handle than us. And we could have their transport system, where the roof and sides of the coach is also classed as a seating option. No, maybe our government is embarrassing, and maybe we are the most unhappy country in the world, but at least we have running water. At least none of us are dropping down dead with typhoid. It’s also a good job we have energy reserves that will be able to generate enough power for the country, after all of the oil-laden countries fall out with us and cut off our supplies. I’m sure Caroline Spelman MP, Environment Secretary, is on the case. It’s also nice that women are allowed to have jobs like Environment Secretary, instead of being stoned to death for speaking to a man who isn’t her dad or husband.

I love Britain, but I don’t know if I’m patriotic. I think I’m just grateful to be living in a first-world country that I have rights in. I think we as Britons have become apathetic and blasé about just how good we have it. Stop giving way to the misery that is fed to us day after day, and realise how amazing it is and how lucky we are to live here. We can go out on a weekend and drink until we vomit, and laugh about it the next day, knowing that we’ll all probably get to do it next weekend. If I wanted, I could stick on my sweatpants and climb up a mountain tomorrow. Tonight, if I was really game. We are so fortunate to live here, why are you sat there complaining? Why are you sat reading this, for that matter?