ABSTRACT
I thought about patriotism. I wished I had been born early enough to have been called a Little Englander. It was a term of sneering abuse, but I should be delighted to accept it as a description of myself. That little sounds the right note of affection. It is little England I love. And I considered how much I disliked Big Englanders, whom I saw as red-faced, staring, loud-voiced fellows, wanting to go and boss everybody about all over the world, and being surprised and pained and saying, ‘Bad show!’ if some blighters refused to fag for them. They are patriots to a man. I wish their patriotism began at home, so that they would say-as I believe most of them would, if they only took the trouble to go and look-‘Bad show!’ to Jarrow and Hebburn.
