Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Somehow it could only be Devon. Story runs thus: BBC Devon decide Devon needs a flag, internet based competition, flag chosen, manufacture begins, Cornwall complains, man in Devon hoists flag in garden, neighbour complains over planning technicality. Why do all stories about the West country contain an equal mix of pointlessness and pettiness?
But the man's from Ottery St Mary, so that explains it all [ooh na, ya din wan be gonna thar, my luver]. Well, there'll all mad there, and have this thing about strapping burning things to people and sending them out into crowded streets (I'm guessing they're playing burn the grockles, which is a traditional autumnal activity amongst locals, who have realised the people cluttering up the streets have run out of money, and therefore are not to be tolerated).
And if you want an insight into what peninsula living does to people, read the comments attached to some of the BBC articles. Mud slung from either side of the Tamar (which, as I recall, has rather smelly mud).
But then I went to Exeter, which as a city considers itself above such territorialism (well, it pretends it isn't in Devon, but both the university and the city could only exist in Devon).
Though if you think I'm being snobby about the Borrow-me[1] county then compare me to the international media monolith that is the BBC. It ran a story titled A flap in the cream tea county. Nowt patronising about that is there?
[1] Because the inhabitants use that phrase instead of the word "lend" (the past tense of which is "borrowt-me"). They have interesting notions on how to pronounce the word "chimney" (er...where exactly did the L and the B come from?).
Anyhoo [carefully not saying where I am, as it has long been an easy target in the regional feud stakes],
But the man's from Ottery St Mary, so that explains it all [ooh na, ya din wan be gonna thar, my luver]. Well, there'll all mad there, and have this thing about strapping burning things to people and sending them out into crowded streets (I'm guessing they're playing burn the grockles, which is a traditional autumnal activity amongst locals, who have realised the people cluttering up the streets have run out of money, and therefore are not to be tolerated).
And if you want an insight into what peninsula living does to people, read the comments attached to some of the BBC articles. Mud slung from either side of the Tamar (which, as I recall, has rather smelly mud).
But then I went to Exeter, which as a city considers itself above such territorialism (well, it pretends it isn't in Devon, but both the university and the city could only exist in Devon).
Though if you think I'm being snobby about the Borrow-me[1] county then compare me to the international media monolith that is the BBC. It ran a story titled A flap in the cream tea county. Nowt patronising about that is there?
[1] Because the inhabitants use that phrase instead of the word "lend" (the past tense of which is "borrowt-me"). They have interesting notions on how to pronounce the word "chimney" (er...where exactly did the L and the B come from?).
Anyhoo [carefully not saying where I am, as it has long been an easy target in the regional feud stakes],
