The Home Secretary recently unveiled the latest “new look” National Identity Card and as far as I can tell, there is one major problem with it; it is missing the symbol of our national identity.
The Union Flag has and always will be the flag that represents this country here and around the world. It is the flag that unites England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. So, imagine my frustration to hear that they British government has made a decision to leave it off a card that is meant to be an identification of our nationality.
Now, the only reason I can think of that the government has made this utterly misjudged decision is that they are fearful of causing offence to those of other nationalities and religions residing in our country.
In response, a spokesman said that it was modelled on a passport and cited that as the reason for the Union Flag’s non inclusion. To me, that is a backtracking and empty response from a government who just can’t seem to get anything right.
What has happened in our country that now means it is offensive or wrong to display the flag of our nation? Our forefathers are turning in their graves.
What is it about sell-by dates that have the same effect on children as a Gordon Brown’s economic policy has on me?
The other morning I came down to have some breakfast with the kids.
I never for once imagine that rustling up some breakfast would require the same patience and brainpower as climbing Mont Blanc and then waiting for the snow to melt before coming down. It all started with the tea. I asked them to get the milk out of the fridge. They shouted that we didn’t have any. A blatant lie – I knew.. So, I stormed over there to find some milk staring them in the face.
“What about that?” I questioned, “That’s milk, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but that went out of date yesterday” came the reply.
Despite my reassurances they would survive this particular ordeal they elected to instead go without tea. Not me – and it tasted perfectly ok.
Then, they got the jam out of the cupboard. And of course, there was a hint of mould on the surface. The practical thing would have been, not to jump like a gun just went off and propel the entire jar in the deepest crevices of the kitchen bin as my kids did, but to scrape the mould off and continue to enjoy the jam as God intended.
So, gone are the days, where we drunk the milk and ate the jam, in date or out of date, and if we ended up with an upset stomach we simply said – well, in hindsight, perhaps we should have thrown those away earlier.
I parked my car earlier today and strolled over to the parking machine to pay, only to be confronted with an ‘out of order sign’ – alone enough to send me over the edge.
Then I got a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a parking warden who promptly told me “it’s not working mate” and then said I should use the other machine which he pointed out on the other side of the green. “I’ll wait here “he said “and you have one minute”. So, I began running across the green brushing past innocent pedestrians in a race against the clock.
It was at this moment, gasping for breath, I realised that parking wardens have too much power. What must it feel like to be hated by every driver on the roads? Well, if you ask me they must feel almost Almighty – after all how many others have people kneeling at their feet begging for forgiveness on a daily basis?
Oh, and they love it.
Why do sales calls always come when we are having supper? Just as you are about to tuck in the phone rings – and for some bizarre reason you go and answer it – because it might be something important. It never is. It is always someone in a Delhi tower block with a headset on who is determined to sell you something.
You would think they would have learned their lesson by now. Every time one of them rings me they get the same response – precisely nothing. Although, depending on how my day has gone sometimes they get a verbal slap on the wrist. It has always puzzled me what it must feel like to be rejected by every caller you dial. I am surprised more don’t jump out of their tower block window.
My hope is that one day I will get a phone call and someone will try and sell me something I need. Earlier today the kitchen sink was blocked. If a Delhi-salesman had called me at that moment and tried to sell me a half price plunger, they may have had some success.
