Pale Patriot Makes Enemies.

I can’t say I’m much of a patriot. It seems to me that the line between patriotism and jingoism is confusingly blurred, and patriotism so easily leads to the Great Delusion:

My country is the best country in the world.

Clearly tosh. There’s no such thing as the best country in the world, nor the worst, come to that – unless you count Wales, only kidding.

(Seriously – ONLY KIDDING. I don’t want any Welshmen knocking on my door and spitting at me while speaking in tongues to the effect that they were here first and the English are just a bunch of illegal immigrants. Please. I really am only kidding.)

And hasn’t anybody noticed that America is the only country in which ‘We are the best country in the world’ is so ingrained in the subtext of the Constitution that even Presidents are allowed to say so in public?

The one time I allow myself to descend to the depths of (rather silly) patriotism is during an international rugby match. Then I get patriotic for eighty minutes. And the Rugby World Cup is due to start in less than two months, so there might be an unfamiliar JJ around for a couple of weeks. I promise to support the USA and Ireland, too, as long as they’re not playing England.

And while I’m on the subject of the USA and the Irish connection, does anybody know where I can get a Go Hillary! car sticker? It’s odd that I should care what happens in America, but I do.

I dislike national anthems as well, especially God Save the Queen and that bloody awful Italian effort that doesn’t know when to stop.

(I don't mind the American, French, German and Russian national anthems. At least they sound a bit like music.)