01Jul2004

Oxford Street is the heartland of London’s retail area. No matter the time of day it’s packed with shoppers. Late November/early December retailers usually put on a Christmas parade. Full of the usual fantasy characters who over the ages have amused children. You know. Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. Thomas the Tank Engine and Bob the Builder. Shrek and Paul Holmes. Somehow or other last November a new group joined the parade. There they were atop of an open top double-decker bus. They were dressed in snow white jerseys adorned with a rose on the chest. And in the middle the letters ‘O2‘. “Who are they mum” asked a particularly puzzled poppit from Putney. “Could be Snow White and the dwarves only there’s too many of them. But I can see a Dopey, a Sleepy, a Bashful and a Grumpy. Some of them look a bit big for dwarves. Ask your father”. “Don’t be daft” said dad. “They’re not dwarves. They’re the English rugby team. They’ve just won a world championship. Somehow they’ve mistakenly joined this Christmas parade. Anyway give them a cheer.” So they did. “What’s rugby?” the enquiring precocious poppit from Putney asked. “It’s a bit like football. Except you pick up the ball and run with it. Sometimes you get to kick the ball over the goal rather than into the net. Just like David Beckham does.”

The rugby players couldn’t believe their welcome. But they hadn’t realised that they’d got caught up in a Christmas parade. They thought that Thomas the Tank Engine and Bob the Builder had turned out especially for them. They hadn’t. Some of them found the whole thing very tiring and vowed not to play rugby again at least for another year. Maybe two years.

The parade finished. The bus went down Regent Street. Up the Mall and arrived at Buckingham Palace. The Queen came out. Prince Charles was there too. “I’m so proud of you all” said the Queen. “I’m going to knight you Clive Wayward”. “The name’s “Woodward” Ma’am” said Clive. “And Woodward it shall be then. Arise Sir Clive”. And he did just like an Edmonds baking powder sponge. “And then there’s Marty Johnstone and Johnny Wilkinson. How’d they like the Order of the British Empire.” “But there’s no British Empire left Ma’man” replied Sir Clive. “I know” said the Queen. “But lets just pretend. And I’d like the rest of the team to be Members of the British Empire. Just to remind those colonials in the Southern hemisphere that there will always be an England. And an Empire for that matter.” At this Prince Charles ears twitched rigorously. This happened everytime his mother mentioned the Empire.

It’s hard to believe that all that pomp and circumstance happened only seven months ago. Last Monday Mick Cleary in the ‘Daily Telegraph’ wrote of another homecoming. “There will be no mass of people thronging Heathrow Airport for England’s arrival at home this morning. The crowds have faded so has the world champions aura.” He continued. “A year ago England were brazen, defiant, waving in the next contender with the cold eye stare of the hot shot guns. England may still cock the trigger but they’re firing blanks.” And what did the gallant knight Sir Clive have to say. “If we get November right (referring to further games against Canada, South Africa and Australia next November) then what happened down under will wisely be forgotten. If we get it wrong then some questions will be asked about what’s going on. Like why wasn’t Bob the Builder there to welcome us this time? Has Thomas the Tank Engine gone off the rails like us?

Even champion sponge cakes go flat sometimes. Could be time to change the recipe or the baker.