Oh Land of Thy Birth

Last Tuesday I visited the City of my birth. I was born in Scarborough, Ontario, Canada. Scarborough is to Toronto what Onchan is to Douglas. Only Scarborough is the size of Leeds.

Frequently, my mother has commented that she wished our family had never left Canada and gone to the Rock. We actually left there when I was six weeks old and I've never seen it since.

Until (as I may have mentioned) last Tuesday.

What can I say that won't have me branded a fully paid up member of the KKK?

You see...we had to get a bus from the train station to the zoo. The bus was pretty full. There were actually 31 people on it. Five were white* Five. There's four people in my family for Gods sake. If it wasn't for us white trash tourists there would've been only one white guy on board! And he got off before us. And the train, train station and passers-by I could see showed we hadn't accidentally got on the Rasta Bus. We were surrounded.

The thing about going to another country is that you aren't really justified in ranting about it's way of life. If you don't like it, there's a boat in the morning.

So I can't wait to get home to really rip into the DHSS, MHKs, the price of beer in nightclubs, the lack of totty in Strand Street and the general state of the roads. And I'll have the right to do it.

Thankyou and good night.

*Out of interest, my definition of white goes from Finland to Greece. We're not just talking Anglo-Saxons.