All allegations made about me, and Saint George btw, are wholly untrue.

So, as the Almighty Gob I am taking this opportunity to make it abundantly clear that those who believe I am intelligent have been maliciously and deliberately misled.

It has come to my attention that rumours about me have been spreading that are entirely untrue and that I strenuously deny. So, I am taking this opportunity to make it abundantly clear that those who believe I am intelligent have been maliciously and deliberately misled for the sole purpose of damaging my reputation, and furthermore, any suggestion that I am somehow a writer will be vehemently opposed, as will any allegation that I have knowledge of what I'm talking/writing about. Further reference to this may be found in paragraph fifty-seven onwards. If indeed, you reach that far. So, good luck.

I've been conned, you've been conned - in fact, we've all been conned! Why? Well, like me you've probably been led into believing from a very early age that England has a patron saint.

Although in theory, we do, whereas, in fact, we have nothing of the sort. Now, none of this would have come anywhere close to being on my radar if it hadn't been for the current media furore regarding football, and the Nike England team shirt.

You see, I took it as read that good old, lance-carrying Georgie boy, was a true-blue Brit. A knight to behold who single-handed fought the mighty dragon and saved our ancestors from the perils of its fiery breath, only to discover just three days ago that it was more likely Millie Bobby Brown, in her role as the fearless warrioress in Netflix blockbuster, Damsel, who did the job instead.

Mind you, I could be entirely incorrect - and, this of course, would most certainly add some weight to the allegation that I have absolutely no idea of what I'm talking about. However, for the sake of convenience, we'd probably best skip past this minor issue for now, while not losing sight of paragraph fifty-seven onwards.

Unlike our heroine of 'Damsel' fame who, by all accounts, appears to be British (even though, according to Wiki she was born in Spain), Georgie-boy was in fact Turkish, and didn't so much as put one foot on British soil. Now, this may entirely be down to the fact that there weren't any available dinghies from the French coast to the beaches of Kent at that time, while conversely, it's more likely that he was far too busy in his role as patron of knights, soldiers, scouts, fencers and archers, among others. Though, little was he to know at that time as to what his future held for him when the patron of football, and right-wing hooliganism had yet to come.

Perhaps, neither did he realise, or indeed we Englanders, that George would be held in such high regard that Bosnia, Georgia, Venice, Genoa, Portugal, Ethiopia and Catalonia also claimed him as patron saint, and that they'd all at some point possibly have to square up to Turkey being his country of nationality. Now, if all that didn't seem enough for superstar George, Lebanese Christians, Palestinian Christians, and Syrian Christians also had dibs on him. With so much going on it's no wonder he was made a saint! If Marvel comics had been around at that time George would have topped the likes of the Avengers, Spider-Man, Iron Man, Black Panther, Deadpool, Captain America, Jessica Jones, and Ant-Man combined in the ratings war for sure, as such was his superpower that he was also invoked against the plague and leprosy, and against venomous snakes.

Oh, and did I mention Greece? No, apparently I didn't. How remiss of me! The now venerated George is also the patron saint of the Greek army since during his life he used to work as a military officer. Furthermore, he is also associated with agriculture and proliferation says his name derives from the Greek word “georgia” meaning agriculture. Well, if ever there was a threat to the WEF in the present (see previous blog), and the much-feared George up there for the rights of EU farmers, Klaus Schwab and his cohorts should be quaking in their boots.

Now, as earth-shatteringly interesting as all that may be, it still doesn't fully explain how it was that we Englanders usurped good old George as our own, does it? Maybe, we just borrowed him and forgot to give him back. You know, like that mislaid library book, but without the notifications of incremental fines that have been building up over the centuries. Mind you, borrowing and not returning is nothing new to us, just ask Greece, and they'll confirm it.

And so it came to pass that despite being immune to the plague, leprosy and venomous snakes, George was not immortal after all, and he died, bravely on the battlefield while presumably not fighting off a battalion of venomous snakes, or for that matter a fearless dragon. Neither could it be said that his lance finally gave way to erectile dysfunction and flopped mid-battle, even though it would make for a far more heroic and entertaining ending.

Anyway, you patriots, just remember the next time any mention of St George arises in conversation we cannot claim him as our own, as, unlike our counterparts in Wales and Ireland, George was about as British as Atilla the Hun, and therefore someone we borrowed from overseas to fill a gap otherwise devoid of a saint just so we can all carry on with the delusion to enable us to feel so much better about ourselves - and hooliganise football, a game where some grown men are overpaid eyewatering amounts of money to kick a bag of air around the battlefield of sport.

It is believed that George finally met his demise in a place called Lydda - modern-day Israel, in the Roman province of Palestine.

Oh please no, don't even get me started on the Israel/Palestine subject................... again!