Red And White Faces Everywhere.

The Beaufort Scale of Engerlund.

It’s a World Cup summer which can only mean one thing. It’s time for flags. If you don’t stick a flag in your window or on your car then you aren’t proper Eng-er-lund, right. Check your flag waving capacity and Engerlundness here with this recognised scale of windy patriotism.

0 Calm – Flag at complete standstill. Not that you own a flag. Christ, is this thing visible in Wales?

1 Light Air – Direction of air shown by slight movements in some lighter flags. You know the words to God Save The Queen, well some of them. You bought a copy of Three Lions when it came out the first time.You get a bit emotional at the end of Zulu.

2 Light Breeze – Wind felt on face, some movement in most flag types. You wear an England top to the pub to watch the match if you remember and, more importantly, if it’s clean. You have started buying the Sun and last night you joined a St Georges Bank Holiday group on Facebook whilst pissed.

3 Gentle Breeze – Wind able to extend fully a light flag. You always wear your England top to the pub for the match, regardless of its state. All your mates are called Darren. You’ve changed your ringtone to World In Motion.

4 Moderate Breeze – Most flags fluttering to full extent. You’ve got a bulldog called George and have a flag on your car. You are wondering what is the most patriotic lager to buy during the World Cup.

5 Fresh Breeze – All flags fluttering to full extent. You have started a St Georges Bank Holiday group on Facebook whilst pissed up on Carling which you believe to be English on account of it having a red and white flag on the 48 can box. You have added the Express to your daily papers and you reckon the country’s full.

6 Strong Breeze – Flags move at a continual blur. Your Facebook group gets 1,000 members but keeps getting trolled by students. You research your family tree with Ancestry.co.uk but cancel the direct debit when it turns out your nana was Polish. The internet is full of paedos anyway you tell your mates down the pub. You have a picture of Stuart Pearce wearing a Tommy’s uniform in your front room window.

7 Moderate Gale – You’re on your second flag for the car now as the first one blew off on the way home from Fat Darren’s stag weekend in Marbella. You spent most of your time drinking in an English-themed pub called Shirley’s where they do a fucking proper breakfast. Drunkenly, you appear to have got yourself a tattoo with the legend “Gay Lineker”.

8 Gale – Where are these flags made? They keep breaking. Ah fucking thought so. Bastard Hong Kong. Used to be ours. Now its all Chinese kids in sweatshops innit. Breaks your heart. You decide you’re going to make your own flag. Fucking right. Soon as Ultimate Force is finished.

9 Strong Gale – You should have used nails on the pole, shouldn’t you? Fuck, it’s windy. Well, it was nice whilst it lasted. You’ve painted the roof of the van in a red and white flag. You’ve told the kids they can’t have a McDonalds till after the USA game and you’ve gone and got a bulldog tattoo to commemorate George. It broke your heart when you ran over him. Fucking flag blew into the windscreen, didn’t see the poor fucker.

10 Whole Gale – Huh, flags. Who needs em? Cos you’ve painted the house in St George’s colours and your face. And your kids faces. You phone The Sun. You phone the local telly. See if they want to come down and photo you. England are in the quarter finals. France. Come on. Have some of that. Your wife’s hidden her Allo Allo boxset just in case we lose and you get nasty. You can’t stop singing Engerlund. You are still under the impression that Al Murray is a documentary.

11 Storm – Fucking hell. The satellite dish blew off Mr Gupta’s house next door and right through your patio doors. Act of God, the insurance said. Which God, you said? Bastard hung up on you. Anyway, before the France match you decided to put on that Kenneth Branagh film where Henry the something stuck it to the Frogs, you know, for a bit of inspiration. So you sat Chardonnay and Nicky down in front of the telly, you goes to the DVD shelf and it fucking aint there. So you stuck on Braveheart instead. Have that you French fuckers, you says. Your wife got a bit upset.

12 Hurricane – House blown down. Wife’s left. Kids are staying with the Guptas whilst you wait for that Polish roofer to get back to you. England lose to bastard Portugal in the fucking semis again. Penalties. You are on the cover of the Halesowen Chronicle.