My Country, Right Or Wrong

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MY COUNTRY, RIGHT OR WRONG

After one recent blog that can only be described as heartbreaking, I needed to cheer myself up. So I laid back and thought of England...

Above: Chesterfield's famous crooked spire.

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A terraced house in Oxford after a particularly violent storm.

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Cheese rolling in Gloucestershire. Why don't they just go to the corner shop?

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Ah, seaside postcards. Oo-er, missus!

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Gurning. Apparently they do this in Cumbria. (Do NOT try this at home. You never know when the wind might change.)

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Toad in the hole. No frills, just get it down yer! Possibly humanity's greatest achievement since the domestication of livestock.

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Football. The proper kind, not that weird version of rugby that stops every 30 seconds for no discernible reason.
Hartlepool United fans dressed as smurfs on their way to a game at Charlton Athletic.

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A working men's club. Irrefutable proof that when it comes to creating a soulless environment in which to consume alcohol, northern England has the rest of the world licked.

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The Kilburn white horse, North Yorkshire. It's graffiti Jim, but not as we know it.

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The Black Country accent. Not to be confused with Brummie. Though it is.
http://youtu.be/vrIqSlt9PXg

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Couldn't wave goodbye without ladling a dollop of good old-fashioned toilet humour onto your already full plate.

Dedicated to those going through troubled times