Oi, where's me England shirt?

Quite a different tack for this post but one I feel really has to be taken.

With the World Cup coming up, here in Ingerland we're going football crazy and people are once more getting ready to fly the flag, quite literally. Already I'm seeing St Georges cheeky little cross flying from vehicles as people show their colours. But wait! What's this? Yikes, look at the interwebs and you'll see that "they" are going to be banning people from wearing England football shirts! It's political correctness gone mad and we plucky little brits just won't take this lying down. That ever popular barometer of popular thought (somewhat of an oxymoron at times perhaps), the Facebook group, is positively exploding with people who want to fight back against the ban. Amongst others there's the "No To The England Football Shirt & Flag Ban" group, the "WE WILL RIOT IF THEY BAN THE ENGLAND SHIRT" posse (love the use of caps BTW, really DRIVES HOME THE POINT) and "whos up for running down spring bank in an england shirt ;-) fuck the ban haha". I'm led to believe that Spring Bank is an area of Hull with a large immigrant community.

Except it's all rubbish, there is no ban. Seems it all started this time round (we've had similar in 2002 and 2006), with a piece in The Sun about how police were seeking to ban England shirts in pubs. Except they weren't. It was just Croydon police sending a letter round local pubs with suggestions about how to minimize potential problems during the World Cup. Probably something to do with the 400 person riot there when England got eliminated from Euro 2004. So, no ban order on England shirts, just local police advice in a potential trouble hotspot. But this thing has legs now.

And as it runs there's been one recent report of a woman, Sam Fardon, being thrown off a First group bus because her two year old was wearing an England top by a bus driver with an eastern European accent. Originally reported in The Evening Sentinel, the local Stoke newspaper, it's now been taken up by The Daily Mail. Except that First has conducted an investigation and said that they didn't have anyone matching the complainants description of the dastardly bus driver on that route. Thirty people did back up the original complaint but none were found to be "credible". One witness they contacted, for example, said the incident had happened on the Monday, coincidently the paper went out while Sam Fardon had reported that it happened on the Thursday. Other bloggers have done a little digging it would appear that Sam Fardon has less than an exemplary past when it comes to theft and deception with incidents in 2002
and 2004. Of course, it may not be the same person but the lady in question is the same age and has the same name. Time no doubt will tell on this one.

So, what can be done about it? Me personally, I've spent a couple of hours trawling around other peoples excellent work on this and jotted this little missive to pass on, although as Mark Twain said "A lie can travel round the world while the truth is putting on its shoes". I've also been reporting the more overtly racist Facebook groups, which whilst it is having something of an effect is a bit of a whackamole game. Even so, maybe you might want to try it.

Talking of Facebook groups again I'll end this post on one of them, "...It's funny how our flag offends you but our benefits don't!!!..." which now boasts over half a million members. Worth checking out even though the name seems to speak of the usual semi-racist bile as people got in touch with the person that set it up and filled him in on the whole (non) story. At this point the founder was big enough to not only realise he'd been taken in and that his group was being overrun with racists but also turned over the admin rights to the group to a bunch of right thinking types who're proudly and wonderfully taking the mick even now. Best of British to them.

Getting back

This post is definitely well overdue and although the temptation is just to forget it, I feel I really do need to close the door on this fantastic episode of my life.

The journey back started with a hop on an Air Asia from Saigon to Bangkok on a Sunday night. which saw me arrive in a somewhat tense city around 9 in the evening. The ongoing red shirt occupation of small parts of Bangkok had been beginning to look a little dicey with some 20 people being killed in violence on the Saturday night but I had no choice in the matter really. Besides which I'd been assured it was quite localised. When I got into the city centre I soon found a place to stay off the Ko Sahn Road, dropped my bags off and went in search of a veggie restaurant, which my guidebook assured me I could find at the end of the Ko Sahn Road. And there it was!

On the other side of the barricades.

Past the red shirted protesters.

Ah.

So, localised but at the end of the road. They were a peaceful enough bunch but it did mean the place I wanted to eat was shut. Damn. Also transpires this was where some of the people had been shot and killed the previous day. Ended up get a cheap pad thai on the street and ruminating on slightly bizarre situation of a life and death protest going on at the end of a road of backpackers partying.

So obviously my mind then turned to beer, although only as an aid to staying up late to help me adjust back to the European time zone of course. Turns out it was the eve of Songkran, the Thai new year celebration that comes at the hottest time of the year and celebrations were starting to kick off as the night wore on. Songkarn celebrations consist of soaking people with water and occasionally throwing chalk dust over them. I ended up drinking with an American chap, John, and as the night rolled into morning we threw ourselves into the fun, throwing buckets of water around and purchasing a water pistol. We also then drank buckets and I have vague recollections of zig zagging down the road trying to find my hotel at around dawn.

Next thing I knew it was 10AM and I was sprawled on the bed still drenched and fully clothed feeling as though death would be a mercy. It was after stumbling outdoors in order to find breakfast that I began to see why Songkarn can be less than amusing when the dry clothes I'd managed to pull on got soaked by a kid with a bucket of water. Dammit man, I had to catch a bloody 15 hour flight later and I was running out of dry clothes.

After breaking my fast and spending some time in my room just going "Urgh" I ventured forth again to quickly go onto the internet. The plan was to reassemble the bike and cycle into Islington when I arrived at Heathrow at 6:30 the next morning and I needed to print out the directions. I found an air con internet round the corner, managing to duck the water on the way. As I sat and browsed away I got a message through from Rob.

For those of you who haven't been following this blog too closely I first came across Rob when he was cycling a day ahead of me through Europe, then teamed up with him in Istanbul to cycle along some of the Black Sea coast in Turkey. I then bumped into him briefly again in Goa. So, of course, where was he now? Bangkok, of course. In the same hotel as I was staying... We met up for lunch, after which I just had time to get myself vaguely together and get to the airport. I'll wrap this up with a picture of Rob and I taking lunch.