Another discarded competition entry idea. I don’t know how I feel about it.
“They had Hadrians wall, you know”, cried the man in corrugated dark blue
“To keep our forefathers trapped.
A border in stone, unlike so few others” said the man, like a statement of fact.
His compatriot in black, revolutionary writing scrawled on his shirt, was quick to retort,
“Aye, but since the union eh the crowns the border’s become invisible”,
he snapped back, sloshing his pint around.
The Crystal Palace had seen better days.
In between the half drank drinks and the clear cut drunks,
all manner of nationalism is displayed when
Scotland play away from home.
“Ye see mate, yer problem is that ye let that border define ye”,
the man in black slurred, an anarchistic statement of intent;
“Bit the reality eh it is; thur should be nae borders our boundaries.”
Outraged, the man in dark blue, Scottish crest affixed to his breast,
Committed the first paper thin sin – nationalism through chagrin
“Listen here my friend, what did Wallace fight for? What does Scotland stand for?
We’re a band apart from our English neighbours, more inventive and creative to boot!”
Cardboard nationalism had never looked less fashionable.
“Nah, ye’ve goat it aw wrang.” Responding the man in black, flexing ideological muscle,
“We’re aw just peeple, and in a perfeckt land there’d be nae nation.
But it’s your kind that’s the worst eh it – defined by an see through line,
set in yer ways. Nationalistic oan the most convienent eh days
an’ no even botherin’ unless it’s called in tae question!”
And with that another round of Tennant’s was ordered,
called upon by the man in dark blue as a tacit celebration of what Scots do best.
Under a stencilled groan, Scotland went one goal down
putting paid to their World Cup hopes.
“Well, I simply disagree. We are born of this nation
and we should take pride in where we come from.
We’re proud, loyal and passionate. We have done a lot
for such a small country.” The man in dark blue said,
as if reciting from a script of some kind.