HAVE you ever been to a wedding where the dance floor wasn’t full the second ‘Come on Eileen’ came on? Here are some other ear-destroyers Brits adore.
Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond
Why has a song about John F. Kennedy’s daughter become an English football anthem? Nobody really knows, but maybe it’s because it was already such a dirge that 60,000 pissed fans singing it en masse can’t make it much worse.
Wonderwall by Oasis
Even its creators have admitted they don’t like it that much and yet ‘Wonderwall’ remains stubbornly popular among Brits after 25 long years of getting shitfaced and wailing it outside pubs. Also a favourite of irritating buskers who only know three chords.
Come On Eileen by Dexy’s Midnight Runners
A bunch of oddballs prancing around in denim overalls singing bullshit like ‘Too-rye-ay’ seems like something no-nonsense Brits wouldn’t have time for, but your own granny would elbow you in the face to get on the dance floor before you when it comes on. An endless mystery.
Agadoo by Black Lace
The fact that Black Lace even exist should be embarrassing enough, yet British people actively enjoy their music and almost 40 years later still perform the actions to this toe-curlingly awful song without irony. Probably because they have no imagination and enjoy being told what to do.
Mr Brightside by The Killers
British people have more enthusiasm for ‘Mr Brightside’ than they do for voting in sociopathic Etonians to run the country, which is saying something. It’s a great song to tunelessly bellow while drunk, which is essentially all Brits want out of a piece of music. See also: ‘Hey Jude’, ‘Tubthumping’ and anything by the Kaiser Chiefs.
STRAWBERRIES and oysters are for poncey, continental types. Here gammon romance expert Roy Hobbs explains what gets a puce-faced Brexiter’s blood pumping even more.
There’s nothing more romantic than five hours in a stuffy pub full of grizzled regulars, gazing into each other’s eyes over a pint of Old Peculiar. Love will be in the air by chucking-out time, unless I’ve got ‘brewer’s droop’, or pass out like I’ve been shot with a tranquiliser dart due to heavy brews called things like Bishop’s Stinky Finger.
Steak and ale pie
What could be raunchier than British pub food? The combination of gravy-soaked pastry, large chunks of beef and boiled ale should be enough to send any red-blooded male into a frenzy. After one of these bad boys, my wife June knows I’ll soon be taking her to the bedroom, where – after a quick nap – we’ll commence intercourse.
The St George Cross
As a proud Englishman, nothing stirs the blood quite like seeing this great kingdom’s flag fluttering in the breeze. No matter what the loony left might say, this country’s history should be celebrated. 1066! Dead Frenchmen! Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery! Such jingoistic thoughts soon have me flying at half-mast, at the very least.
The Daily Mail sidebar
Ever since the PC brigade banned Page 3 from The Sun, I’ve had to get my pornography online. Apart, that is, from The Daily Mail. Nothing makes me want to reach into my sock drawer for a Viagra more than some long-lens photographs of a minor celebrity sun-bathing, followed by a post-coital Piers Morgan column.
A full English
Packing in at least 1,000 calories of various fried pork products first thing in the morning is the best way to kickstart the day. And once I’ve taken my heart medication, June knows I’ll have the stamina for some passionate lovemaking without expiring.
Thinking about the war
Some would say a six-year nightmare, I’d say a monument to good old British spunk. Imagining those heroic Brits in the 40s gets me quite turned on. Not that today’s youth would understand – they’re all probably permanently weak and impotent thanks to their millennial vegan diets.