I just watched England’s football team beat Khazakstan 4-0 as part of their World Cup qualifier campaign. I was so pleased how we (6th in the FIFA rankings) Vs Borat land (132nd or something).

The pitch looked like the cows who usually adorn it were shifted to the car park, sorry tractor park, outside. In my 40 years (born 1967) I have been unable to see Engalnd win anything major. The last soccer trophy was in 1966. Come to think of it (which my dad probably did) maybe it inspired me. In a ‘back of the net’ kind of way.

Don’t call me ungrateful. The rugby world cup was very special but I was in Vegas at the time and nobody I met had heard of either rugby or England. By the time I got back to Dubai, the fun was over and people had stopped drinking to celebrate it.

I saw the highlights on the plane back and allowed myself to slip into a stupor to mark the time.

I do that a lot.

Having lived abroad for the last 15 years, it has helped to strengthen my relationship with the UK. I was disappointed enough to emigrate because of a lack of opportunities within the then covertly racist Auntie Beeb (BBC).

BBC Radio Cleveland Days, so much promise. So big teeth.

I gave up. Jumped on the first passing plane and arrived in the UAE.

Arse.

Never really missed home and never wanted to go back too often.

Until now.

The British National Party (BNP) has just taken some significant seats in the local elections.

They are the modern equivalent of the Nazi party.

This is really making me question my heritage. Am I a black British expat with a pride for home but no wish to go back and live there or am I a traveller forever with a faded flag on my passport who’s played right into the hands of those who would chant ‘Blacks out!’   by leaving the country anyway?

I want to go back and do something.

Maybe I’ll just renew my 15 year passport.

Or stop caring.

Or thrash Germany again on the PS3.

That sounds like the one.

Laters…