Bring me my Arrows of desire

This clip. Have a look. It comprises an impressively large number of things I can’t fucking stand. The petty middle-class jingoism we English do so very well. Hyper-idealized cod-religious guff about a place that never has and never will exist. Smug, self congratulatory pride in an idea which is well past its prime, if you can count centuries of subjugation and conquest as ‘prime’. Small minded, Little Englander parochialism played out in the faded grandeur of an empire which was obtained, like all empires, through the murder and exploitation of millions.

Was the holy lamb of god on England’s pleasant pasture seen!

Of course he fucking wasn’t. He was from Judea, in as much as he existed at all. The myth-making here is so desperate, so blatant. That big old gap in Jesus’ life story conveniently lets people make up whatever crap they feel like, all the better to claim some spurious connection as the ‘true’ chosen people.

At least try to stick to the story. You don’t get to fill in the gaps with whatever you fancy (there’s a can of worms, right there).

And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Jerusalem has caused enough problems in its present location. Just leave it where it fucking is. People in the UK have enough genuine reasons to harbor grievances; we really don’t need any more, thank you very much.

Just look at those twats singing. The moronic pride in a wholly confected idea. The imbecilic attempts at ‘humour’ playing into the dumb trope of the English Eccentric. That’s not eccentric, that’s just stupid. Take off your shitty little hat, and stop it with the ridiculous over-enunciation. But then what have you got? Nothing except a belly full of cheap lager and a crappy novelty bowtie.

I will not cease from Mental fight, Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem, In England’s green and pleasant land.

This is a song espousing ideas which are complete anathemas to me. It's an empty symbol invested with unwarranted meaning by a bunch of cunts I’d cross the road to avoid in real life. It’s a combination of so many things which keep us anchored to a time which never existed, which never should have existed, and is a paragon of everything which prevents us from moving forward as a people, as a nation, and as a species.

Every time I hear it I get a lump in throat.

It’s my home and I miss it. I grew up in one of the greenest and most pleasant parts, close to the birthplace of the industrial revolution. Even the dark satanic mills have resonance for me. I should hate Jerusalem, but I can’t. The call of home is too strong. For all that I talk about seeing things rationally, and not taking symbols as more than they are, the heart pulls in ways the head can’t control.

Japan is my home now, but it’ll never be Home. And I know that that’s also a place and time which doesn’t exist now and never really did. So sue me. It’s beautiful and it’s mine.

Credit where it's due.