That’s it. I’ve decided to become Polish. Why not after all. Every fucker else is. The boy that butters my scone in the wee shop in the morning, the girl that cleans our office, the bloke at the bus stop drinking lager in the morning, the girl who serves you in the bakers etc etc. My local butcher has even gone bilingual with his signs. The pub next door to my flat has an extensive range of Polish beers. Leith has become a mini-Warsaw.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really have an issue with it. After all, I’ll have a use for all of those W’s and Z’s in Scrabble which will result in higher scores. I just wish there was more of a balance. A year ago in Leith, no Poles. Now everyone is a Pole. As I say though, no real complaints in the sense that the Poles are law abiding, tax paying and by God do they work. They do all of the jobs that the Scots wouldn’t touch with a barge pole (pardon the pun). If I was an employer, would I employ the lazy, fag smoking Scot who comes in on a Monday morning, half an hour late with a hangover or the keen, hard working Polish bloke? No competition.
It all seemed to happen so suddenly though. In the last few months I’ve been given flyers for Polish night clubs, seen Polish graffiti on shop shutters on Leith walk and watched extensive news coverage of how a murdered Polish girl allegedly shagged half of a Glasgow church congregation.
The final thing which tipped the balance and prompted this post though was the poster I saw on my walk home last night. Pride of place in the glass panel of a Leith bus shelter was an advert proclaiming that we should all consider a holiday in Gdansk.
I’m thinking of booking a flight.
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