We all know how easy it is to become enraged by that which you do not understand. Those with especially short tempers will shake something around for thirty seconds flat and become severely pissed off when whatever it is refuses to reveal its secret. It’s even worse when people refuse to automatically side with your incredibly strong and no doubt perfectly right opinions.
It’s certainly very hard to believe in Europe. Sure, if it were a slightly larger land mass or held a dash more world history it would be easier to accept. Maybe if it had played host to just one more empire of yesteryear the simple fact of its existence would be that little bit more palatable. However, in spite of the many times they’ve jetted off to Paris or Barcelona, the continent of Europe remains a mystery for most.
Then there are those who are quite prepared to believe that a Europe shaped region is out there but merely don’t want to be a part of it. Because interesting culture and deliciously varied cuisine is something that no decent British person should want anything to do with whatsoever. I’ve checked the rules that the Queen scribbled on the back of a paper bag during a dream I had ages ago and it’s all there in purple stripes.
We are, after all, a standoffish and unpleasant people. The only time we pitch in with regards to Europe is to row our boys out of that hellhole at top speed. You know the instance I mean. Look at our valiant nation, we’re an island, specifically designed to separate us from them and who are we to argue with geography? Obviously we should resolutely stay put, erect massive fences and only venture out when we have a craving for superior wine. Or cheese. Or slightly more romantic sounding language.