Hating the Germans and other things Brits should just let go of now

BRITAIN has a proud history of dwelling on the past. But as we enter the season of goodwill here are some things we as a nation should probably have let go of a while back.

Hating the Germans

It’s more than 80 years since the start of World War 2, so maybe – just maybe – it’s time to bury the hatchet. Also our rivalry increasingly feels one-sided, which is no fun. Let’s start afresh and celebrate all the things the Germans excel at: beer gardens, sausage goods and the terrifyingly exhilarating free-for-all that is the autobahn.

The Winter Olympics

It’s time to face facts, Britain – we’re useless at the Winter Olympics and always will be. Yes, Torvill and Dean won our hearts sliding on their knees like kids at a wedding reception to the Bolero, but, newsflash, that was 36 years ago. Yes, we did win the curling that time, but is sweeping really a sport? 

Taking soap opera plots seriously 

Undoubtedly that chap shouldn’t have driven Gail Platt into the Corrie canal. Yes, Dirty Den shouldn’t have treated Angie that way, and no, Trevor shouldn’t have force-fed Little Mo gravy. However talking about soap stories as if they’re real is deeply weird, as is the press hounding long-forgotten actors to get an unflattering picture when they’ve just popped out for a Twix.


Flags. Sequins. Fake tan. Nul points. It’s rubbish anyway, but Britain being hated on the continent for a list of grievances too long to relate here means we will never win. Once we’d send Andy Abraham, Daz Sampson or Love City Groove and be ‘in’ on the joke. But now we just get humiliated, which isn’t a great night’s telly. 

Woolworths closing

Saturday afternoon trips to the high street just aren’t the same these days. Firstly, because you don’t go, and secondly because there’s no Woolworths. However it closed back in 2008 and these days do we really need a shop that sold a huge range of stuff but of questionable quality? We’ve got Amazon now, which doesn’t have sticky carpets.

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A day in the wretched life of a Red Wall voter, by a Guardian writer

By Joanna Kramer

NOT many people have heard of Clecksleydale in Yorkshire, the obscure Red Wall town where Martin Bishop was brought up and now endures a daily living hell. 

When I arrived to meet retired electrician Bishop, the signs of economic decline were everywhere – a poorly attended Costa, several charity shops selling unwanted Compare The Market meerkats, and no restaurants I would consider visiting.

Bishop begins his day trying to find a traditional cafe for breakfast. Once, he only had to walk five minutes to find one. Now it takes seven. Logan blames the immigrants and wishes the Labour Party would have the guts to acknowledge his concerns.

Bishop said: “There’s no young people anymore in Clecksleydale. They all moved out in 1984 when there were no jobs to be had, thanks to Michael Foot and the Labour Party.

“Everyone’s forgotten about us. Once there’d be a BBC TV crew here every day asking what we thought about Brexit. Now we’re lucky if they come twice a week. It’s as if they’re just not interested in our rambling, confused opinions anymore.

“Shops are closing down all over the place, which is probably the immigrants again. We can’t get out to these big megastores. What are we supposed to do? Answer me that, Jeremy Corbyn. 

“I’m still voting for Boris. He talks the language of real people like me – complete bollocks.”