Mr Blobby patriotism

Over recent weeks I have found myself thinking about the country we live in, what it feels like and what I like, and love, about it.

I guess I found myself thinking about this because of the summer we’ve had – of riots outside of asylum hotels, the Tommy Robinson march through London and a rising political temperature. And then last week the awful attack on a synagogue in Manchester.

All this fresh in my mind, I sat down one day to think about what to say on a conference panel and wrote a list in front of me of all the things I love about Britain. Yorkshire Tea adverts with Sarah Lancashire and Sean Bean, Greggs, Pete Postlethwaite’s speech in Brassed Off, 2p machines, hun culture, the relentless sarcasm, Sam Fender hungover on breakfast TV, Big John, Supermarket Sweep, monster munch, everyone knowing the rap in Wannabe, Irn Bru adverts, Tango adverts (apple and orange), Mr Bean, really bad service stations, Chicken Shop Date, the phrase "Can he do it on a cold, rainy night in Stoke?", the different names we have for bread rolls (see also: sex, chewing gum, woodlice, the TV remote), the montages before and after big games like Wales in the six nations and the Lionesses going into the final, taking the piss out of our mates, meal deals….and Mr Blobby.

What a list.

This is what I love about our country – the not-taking-yourself-too-seriously and the begrudging patriotism I feel as I hear someone make a your-mum joke.

This is Silly Sausage Britain.

Silly Sausage Britain is my Britain, it’s who I think we mostly really are. And despite the silliness there is also a serious side to us – a kind, reasonable, warm-underneath side. This is the side of us that helps people up and down stairs with heavy bags and prams, that checks in on people who look a little lost. And it’s the people who become nurses and paramedics in our NHS and those that join the RNLI for no pay just to help people who need it. It’s leaving-people-be but asking them if they’re ok if they look like they need it, it’s saying ‘thanks drive’ to the bus driver and turning everything into a meme.

It's in our love of nicknames too. In our friendship group we have someone called Cheese for no other reason than that someone said “the next person to walk into this room will be called Cheese”, and someone called Pipey because his first name is Dwayne. There’s a whole reddit thread on this very issue.

Remember that guy who put little flags in dog poos? This is the essence of Mr Blobby Patriotism. A grudging but somewhat uplifting patriotism that is housed in the smallest actions of our fellow citizens. It’s not a twee, cosy, knitted patriotism but one of taking-the-piss, rolling up your sleeves and giving someone a wet willy. It’s not a slick, shiny, Remain-campaign patriotism, but one drawn in felt tip, left as a note to let someone know you’re thinking of them next to a cup of (Yorkshire) tea.

If Mr Blobby is the King of Silly Sausage Britain then current president must be Greg James, taking over from Barry and Paul Chuckle, to become the curator of silliness every day on BBC Radio 1 breakfast, unveiling statues of the tallest duck (RIP Long Boi) and dressing up as Pitbull. A silliness that has, at its heart, a kindness towards others and a desire for the kind of connection you build with people immediately when you laugh and laugh and laugh and can barely get the words “I think I’m gonna wee myself” out of your lungs you’re laughing so much. Kindness, curiosity and the ability we have to give people a chance is predicated for many of us on this silliness.

Is not taking yourself too seriously a grounding and common force? Perhaps. But what I do know is that even in London if something weird happens on a tube, the eye contact and tiny smirks between Londoners is off the charts. Like the time someone got on and dropped 20 chicken nuggets and then one lad bent over, picked one up and the whole carriage gasped as he dipped it in floor ketchup. And in those moments you feel, and maybe even remember, connection with other humans out in the world. Something zips through the air and so often it reminds you that we’re not that different, when it comes down to it.

Our moments of silliness – a joke, a prank or making a fart noise when someone sits down – can lead to these moments of connection. And so our silliness can give our kindness confidence, make it easier to be reasonable and mean that seeing things from another perspective is a shorter walk. As the amazing Jo Cox said in her maiden speech: “we have more in common than that which divides us” and laughing together reminds us that this is so.

Most people will have a chat with you about anything if you go about it the right way. My friend Rachael was telling me about this cracking plumber she has who’s a top lad and recently while he was head-under-sink mentioned something to her about asylum hotels. She paused for a second, and then asked him what it was about the hotels that was worrying him the most and allowed him into a respectful, honest and open conversation with her about his fears. And this allowed him to talk those fears through, but also unpick his understanding about where the people in that hotel might have come from and why they might need help and support. This is the Britain I know we are, the one that lets someone ask you a genuinely curious question about what you think and answers it in kind. And every time this happens, getting us all knowing each other a little better.

One of my visceral reactions to the Tommy Robinson march that happened a few weeks back, and walking past people in and around political areas who have genuinely made me feel scared, has been to reach out and to be more open. It made me feel better, more human and more side-by-side with other people. Nick Lowles, human legend and founder of the anti-fascist Hope Not Hate, often says that when people get involved in their communities they feel less fed up, more connected and more positive standing with each other. This is the idea behind Hope Not Hate’s Weekend of Hope in a few weeks’ time – small acts of hope, of helping other humans, of community. 

Another beautiful project that really gets to the heart of our kind, brilliant, laughter-filled country is Community Britain from the Co-operative party, which lifts up community energy projects, fights for social clubs to stay open and champions those in communities having a stake, buying assets and running the show.

I had been thinking about Mr Blobby patriotism for a few days when I sat down to watch the Prime Minister’s speech last week. When he listed out some of what he sees as “real Britain” I nodded vigorously at his descriptions, even if it was all slightly earnest (has to be really, doesn’t it). But, because we are Silly Sausage Britain, it’s already a meme. And yep, that’s real Britain, my friends.

Most of us basically love our country, even if begrudgingly – not the version we’re told to, or even presented with, but the one we really see and live in every day. Silly Sausage Britain is the Britain most of us reside in, and love. We turn toward other people when they need it and take the piss out of them when they don’t.

So, I guess the next question is: should we bring back gungeing and is Dave Benson Phillips available?

And you, reading this, get out there into Silly Sausage Britain. Help people with their luggage, make your builder a cup of tea, and be a good egg.

(Sorry to all Americans, posh people and those under the age of 30, for whom references in this piece may not land.)

Sofie Jenkinson is Co-Director of Round Our Way, former Head of Communications at IPPR and NEF and a strategic and political communications consultant.