Public Announcement: “Wales is now cool”

Gwlad! Gwlaaaad! At last, the Welshman’s time has come – and about flipping time, too. For too long, the world has crooned in adoration over the Irishman’s lilting brogue, the Englishman’s impeccable manners or the Scotsman’s inability to say the word “asparagus” without it sounding like an invitation. Well, now it’s Wales’ turn in the limelight.

This is the country that gave you Tom Jones, Shirley Bassey, and Anthony Hopkins (whose famous Hannibal Lecter character was definitely inspired by local colour.) We’ve given you male voice choirs and wool and rain, and a concerning adjustment to the national average Body Mass Index. We also gave you Gavin Henson (but we’ve already apologized for that.)

But most importantly, the Welsh people have given you Rugby. Or, actually, a devotion to the sport of Rugby that burns so hot, it’s enough to adjust the central heating costs in the Cardiff YMCA. They call rugby posts the “Altars of Wales” and rightly so: it is here our religion; we have not glad tidings, but gwlad tidings; we chant, not “Amen”, but rather “Alun Wynn”, and Shane Williams has been the one true try-scorer who dived for our sins.

This weekend, Wales might be marching forth for a fourth Six Nations title, a third grand slam and yet another Triple Crown. Success would mean a record fourteenth consecutive win. The nation holds its breath; its hammering heart is the Millennium Stadium, as it will always be known to the pure. Let the rivers of Cardiff run red! Not with blood but with Welsh Jerseys etc! They sell them in Cardiff on match days. Also there is lady who paints your face but don’t let her or you will regret it when you find that there is a semi-permanent, semi-discernable red dragon still attached to your face on Monday morning.

We’ll all be watching at Tall John’s House, we’ll be watching in the Brecon Beacons, we’ll be watching all over Wales. We will also be singing and shouting – you may be able to hear us in England!