The flags came down overnight, as unexpected as when they went up in the first place. 

It wasn’t me. I don’t own a ladder and I’m not brave enough. The sort of person weird enough to creep about at night attaching nationalist symbols to street furniture isn’t the sort of person I want a direct confrontation with. 

I was glad someone else pulled them down though – ripped them down judging from the tatters left on a couple of lampposts on the way to the station. It meant I wasn’t entirely alone in objecting. 

It was less than a week before new flags went up. 

The new set contained more union flags, rather than just St George crosses. Surprisingly they’re all the right way up too which isn’t the case for the ones just down the road in Waltham Cross. So maybe here in Cheshunt we at least have a slightly better class of nationalist weirdo.

I have a hobby of writing to my MP in character. I roleplay as an slightly ageing ‘proper’ one nation conservative. Why? Mostly cos I think it’s funny but also cos I figure he’s more likely to listen to disagreement from someone on his side than an actual lefty like me

Except my old one nation Tory MP stood down at the last election. The one I have now isn’t actually a conservative. The Conservative party doesn’t have conservatives in it any more. Instead I’ve got a racist far right Tory who recently wrote complaining about ‘unvetted men from barbaric cultures’ coming into the country. 

So he wrote back, but didn’t engage with what I’d said, just repeated empty nationalist bullshit. I’d specifically asked him if he could see a difference between legitimate patriotism and nationalist territorial marking. He can’t.

It can all feel a little pointless can’t it? There’s a chippy over the road from me that’s had union jack bunting outside for ages. Ostensibly the same symbol as what’s attached to the lampposts but that’s a shop that employs English and Turkish Brits, always has local teenagers working in it and is a proper part of the community. 

Their flags mean something else.

They didn’t creep about at night to put them up.

Here’s another English thing I bloody love. Little Baby Swastika by Skunk Anansi.