You just can't win

Last week I got moaned at by some drivers for not displaying enough England flags and signage ‘in support of our National team.’ I had made a managerial decision, in light of the impending EU referendum, not to be seen to support either side of the Leave/Remain argument, but still got moaned at anyway. I asked for clarification of our policy from Head Office, and was told that I should indeed be flying the flag of St. George, and hanging bunting from every available surface, as “the more patriotic products we display during football tournaments, the more we are likely to sell.”
And everything, of course, has to come down to money.
So, on the day after the British public voted to say goodbye to the European Union, and on the eve of England’s humiliating sporting defeat to Iceland, I covered almost every available inch of space in the garage with symbols of our ‘great nation.’
And at precisely ten minutes past six on Tuesday morning I had my first derisory comment about it. Specifically - “I hope you’re gonna rip that shit down now.”
Then twelve minutes later - “I hope you’re happy then. You got what you wanted. My kids will grow up with no chance of travel and no prospect of working abroad, but at least you flag-waving ‘Leave’ bitches ‘got your country back.’ Well done, you must be very proud of yourselves.” My argument that we were simply supporting a small team of footballers and not making a geo-political statement fell on deaf ears. 

RC 1-7-16