Creamy Old England
Welcome to gallery that celebrates all that it is to be English, think of it a thinly sliced cucumber sandwich with those nasty crusts cut off, think of it as a freshly laden clotted cream and strawberry jam scone, English strawberries mind, none of your foreign muck, think of it as the robust head on a pint of real English ale, the sonorous chimes of Big Benjamin, the pointlessness of the yearly boat race, the languid sausage swathed within the distended pudding of a good old English toad-in-the-hole, the tragedy of Morris Dancing, the comforting sound of a solid piece of wood connecting with a yielding skull on a Saturday night, the playful patterns from a binge drinking induced vomitfest in the local shopping precinct, think of it as pregnant teenager enjoying a lovely cup of tea.
Now sing the National anthem, sing, sing, sing as you stand erect in a proud, rigid salute to all things quintessentially English.
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Now sing the National anthem, sing, sing, sing as you stand erect in a proud, rigid salute to all things quintessentially English.
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