I'm not a particularly patriotic chap. I like England to win at the rugby (best not mention yesterday), I think it's great that Charles Darwin was one of ours, and, as far as I'm concerned, I live on the most beautiful island on the planet. But I also happen to think that the union flag is pretty damn tacky, I couldn't give a flying toss about how crap our overpaid soccer team is doing yet again, and I cringe with embarrassment every time I hear the opening chords of the national anthem—it's the Twenty-First Century, for Christ's sake!
My mate Fitz rightly points out that it would be ridiculous for me to feel proud of being English/British. I didn't have any say in the matter; I just happened to be born where I was. I also happen to have been born with two legs, but I don't feel particularly proud of them. Actually, that's a bad example, as I have a particularly fine pair of legs, but you catch my general drift.
But every now and again, I come across something which gets me right there. Something which tugs at my latent patriotic heart-strings. Something which makes me cry out, "YES, THAT IS US! WE ARE BRITISH. WE ARE BETTER THAN YOU, AND I AM PROUD OF IT!"
Something like this:
WE ARE BRITISH! HEAR US ROAR!