Creeping

by pauland1707

Those of us who remember Henry Kelly will also remember the somewhat “jaded by time” gameshow Going for Gold. The format was simple: chuck a few Europeans together and ask them, generally, questions about European stuff. Whoever answered the most difficult or highest number of questions would ultimately win a speedboat. Or a fitted kitchen. Or a set of golf clubs. And Henry would say “keep out of the black and in the red, you’ll get nothing at all with two in a bed”. And Tony didn’t help anyone really, did he?

“Hello”. “What do you mean I’m talking about the wrong show?”. “I’m talking about Going for Gold”. “Bullseye, nothing in this game….”. “Right, better sort this. What a bollocks up. You can’t trust anybody these days. Arse. Don’t think they missed me. Consummate professional, this will be text-book, watch me, Alistair Campbell”.

But to get back to Going for Gold, which was nowt like Bullseye, the questions were invariably on European topics. Not once was anyone asked the State capital of North Dakota or the name of the 23rd President’s pet dog. This was proper stuff about our nearest neighbours: Beaudelaire, Wencelas Square or the largest city in Norway. Question is why would anyone be in the slightest bit interested in the winning score between the Mudd Flatts Titans and the Beavis Hole Hound-Dogs in the 1967 Nebraska All College Pro-Bowl Championship (sponsored by Aunt Millies Cheesecakes “The finest cheesecake west of Terre Haute”) when the works of Brecht or Goethe exist? But in other gameshows, invariably, the winning score between the Mudd Flatts Titans and the Beavis Hole Hound-Dogs in the 1967 Nebraska All College Pro-Bowl Championship (sponsored by Aunt Millies Cheesecakes “The finest cheesecake west of Terre Haute”) has greater relevance than the works of Brecht or Goethe. Sad. Very sad.

But now we’re on a train and people are drinking coffee from paper cups. Manufactured, allegedly, by a company in Seattle. No-one is eating a Bacon Buttie or a sausage sarnie or a fried egg banjo. Some guy (get that, “guy”, not bloke or fella but “guy”) is eating doughnuts or are they bagels. What the flying bollocks is going on? Everywhere, creeping Americana. There’s even people watching American “comedy” programmes on lap-tops. It’s 7:00 in the morning!! And tonight they’ll eat fried chicken from a bucket with fries and drink poxy bloody Coca-Cola.

Years ago, we ate chips out of newspaper. We drank Dandelion and Burdock. We drank coffee from proper cups. And it had nothing to do with Seattle. We talked. And no-one was a “guy”. Except on the 5th of November. And there were no Halloween parties, Christmas was on 25th December and not when Coca-Cola said and we couldn’t have cared any less about winning score between the Mudd Flatts Titans and the Beavis Hole Hound-Dogs in the 1967 Nebraska All College Pro-Bowl Championship (sponsored by Aunt Millies Cheesecakes “The finest cheesecake west of Terre Haute”).

Have a nice day. Try reading some Goethe, some Brecht, some Beaudelaire and Oslo. Yes, Oslo.

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