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I am going to speak to you at this time, very seriously, about a dreadful disease. A disease, nay an epidemic, more vile than the black death, more subtle than whatever Hollywood has attractive young stars of weepies die from these days, and more unmentionable than what’s-it’s-name that we’re not allowed to mention on the air. I am going to speak of a disease which seems only to afflict my fellow Englishmen. I am going to speak, of course, of Ethno-deficiency. … Ethno-deficiency, you may not have thought of it much before, but think of it now. Ethno-deficiency is that condition that the English find themselves in of being bereft of national characteristics.
Consider this symptom: you can go, at appropriate times of the year, to ethnic German festivals, and Italian, and Polish and Hispanic festivals, and St Patricks’ Days, and festivals of African culture and even Scottish ones and (Oh!) Welsh— yet when was the last time you went to an ethnic English festival. Could you even imagine what one would be like? You probably think it would be a group of guys in bowler hats, carrying umbrellas, and standing around eating bad sandwiches and drinking tea in the rain, and what an awful thought that is!
And then: Why---unlike almost any other people do we not have a real national dress?
I mean we have absolutely no excuse to wear anything that’s outrageous or pointy or turban-y or anything that looks remotely like we’re cross-dressing. We just end up looking like you only a bit smarter and a lot more boring.
And why is it that our flag is lost in the midst of the Union Flag of Great Britain? Do you know that during the World cup they had over here I saw two different catalogues of memorabilia that had the correct flag for Scotland but the Union Jack for England instead of the Cross of St George.
Yes! You’ve got it: it’s all because of ethno-deficiency!
And now things are taking a terrifying turn. I am convinced that the mysterious and ubiquitous “Them” at the CIA or maybe it was the FDA have confused ethno-deficiency with mad cow disease and that in turn with foot and mouth, and “Them” is out to cull me like a foaming Friesian. Let me tell you my sad tale, and my suspicions and then you can tell me just how scared I should be.
I was running (as I do), early in the morning, a few days ago, whilst it was still dark and I reached a bit of the road where there was just one street light out. Suddenly, violently I was tripped and fell, bruising my foot and nearly squishing my mouth.
Hidden in the shadow of a telegraph pole (caused by this one absent light) was a severe disruption of the level of the sidewalk---the edge of one of its tectonic plates rose up before me like mountain over a subduction zone, why it must have been two or three inches higher than the adjacent one and it made a perfect trap for me. And it almost worked. They almost got me. The frightening thing is how they even knew I was going to be there? And the really terrifying thing is that, (just as in every movie you’ve ever seen about the innocent falling afoul of the CIA---or for that matter the FDA) having failed in their fiendish plot, with diabolical efficiency, they hid their tracks. They replaced the street light, they cemented a little ramp up that ridge and, just this morning, I saw that they had even marked the edge of the damned thing with high-reflectance red paint! Avoiding collateral damage I suppose.
It’s a dangerous time to be ethno-deficient---and ... and I seem to be getting these blisters on my hooves!
Cheerio for now
from
Llewellin O’Howland-MacBoltonski
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