I am almost sure that I posted on this before. I also think. however, that said post shuffled off the Internet coil when MyT (may the Barclay Brothers rot in Hell and/or Sark) pulled the plug.
My Dad was British to both the depths of his soul and to the sole of his Army boots. Never altered the fact that he was ecstatic if a Scot or Scots team shoved it right up the fundament of the relevant Southron opponent.
It’s always worked for me as well. I have fond memories of heckling Peter West under his commentary position at Murrayfield and of singing obscene songs about Jimmy Hill and Bobby (‘Whaur’s your bracelet?’) Moore at Hampden. Never altered the fact that I knew that it was just banter and that we were all British and would remain united as a nation at the end of the day and to the end of time.
Obviously, not so certain that we are all as laid back about our intra-British sporting events in the present climate. But, I choose to Pollyana on. And I am, accordingly, looking forward to tonight.
Only been to Wembley for Us v You once but it was the one where we helped you by lifting the turf, and the goalposts,Work for which you would have had to pay, had it not not been for our selfless action on the day. You’re welcome!
Anyhow, I didn’t go on to the pitch myself but we did stop the car on the verge of the M6 just north of Birmingham. We gouged out a hunk of turf, trimmed it with scissors, beautified it with some toothpaste and sold it for a few pints in Chic Murray’s pub in Embra as part of the penalty spot.
Happy and innocent days. I would like to think that tonight will be as innocent but I’m no’ holding my breath, to be honest. At least I get to sing two National Anthems with pride and passion.
And I still hope that we gub you big time.