There are few things in the world that are more annoying than rampant nationalism in any country. Take supermarkets, for example. Loads of people all milling around like bleating herds of sheep with no real purpose other than to load their trolleys with crisps, vodka and Strawberry bon-bons. They’re annoying aren’t they?

Or Freddy Flintoff whose name is actually Andrew but whose moniker is derived from a non-existent resemblance to the patriarch in The Flintstones. He’s the one who was pretty good at cricket but has one of those faces that imply a massive childhood head injury. He’s quite tall, he’s quite blonde (some might say the very definition of an Aryan) and he’s also quite annoying for having less dramatic presence than Robert Pattinson in a coffin-makers.

Or children. With their tiny chocolate-smeared faces and incessant questioning of the world around them like “Why is that man so massive?”, “Where are our parents?”, “Why are you taking your jacket off after winking at the camera crew that appear to be following us?” They’re pretty bloody annoying as well. Gadding around a supermarket, getting in people’s way and shutting each other in freezer cabinets. Little twassocks.