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^do they?
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Am I the only person who thinks that wishing "Happy anything and everything" (other than birthday, Christmas annd New year) is completely pointless, unnecessary and daft?
Well, I celebrated yesterday along with many others.

A good local band knocking out great tunes and a good crowd celebrating... a forgotten -
nay almost forbidden word,
. . . . a word which means more to me than any other. . . .
That word is
"ENGLAND"
Talbot , try ticking the box which says ENGLISH on your next census form ! eh.
No Gingejbee you aren't the only one - others do too.

Then others are more cheerful and glass full types.
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He's an excuse for a Pizz-up
Who needs an excuse for a Pizz up , ask me next time Talbot.
spath, Don't believe everything you read.
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For a brief moment I thought that TTT had been trained at the Diane Abbott school of mathematics.
Leprechauns and Banshee's the fella was a Dragon slayer, you can't mess with that ;-)
"Talbot , try ticking the box which says ENGLISH on your next census form ! eh"

In the last English census you could tick the box that had the options, "English / Welsh / Scottish / Northern Irish / British"

Not too difficult eh?
Cheers TTT and the same to you. You have given me the biggest smile today :)
There won't be a next census form. 2011 was the last one. No need for any more as all relevant information is now electronically stored.
Happy St Georges Day you band of brothers.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
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crikey spath, you actually acquired knowledge, well done!

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