an english cow of irish ancestry
is so enamoured with the wee islet that she publicly begged to be adopted.
it must be the water around ere. or more specifically, the recycled waste [read: as in expelled from a human being] water that each and every native is made to quaff. and i can't wait to see the inevitable side-effect that will take place. or maybe it already has. as finely displayed by said cow.
well, going by the french philosopher's definition of nationality that she quoted:
.. nationality should be determined by where your heart feels at home, not by where your body happened to be born...
so i could now safely and openly declare that i'm english/british then? as opposed to anglophile? after all i did feel most at home whilst in old blighty, never more so in London. and how i'd stand proudly and declare my, erm, allegiance to the Queen during 'live' sports telecasts whilst at the local.
which i never give a flyin wotsit to the angry bewilderin deathstare's thrown at my direction. just because i and em ethnic chink's look similarly, so i MUST be wee islander?
oh, i could go on about how i have a thing for *young* english chappie's am still variously mistaken for a native of London, the north and north of the border. or even a manc which is hilarious as i spent only a couple of days in manchester.
come to think of it, i have never even been to scotland either. but what certainly is more hilarious, some wee islander's aren't sure if i'm actually one of em.
as enscribed by the letter b @ June 20, 2006 11:08 AM | someone's pinged