I forgot me ‘at.

I went to Israel, where it was 32 degrees plus, and forgot to pack my Spurs hat. My sacred, my hallmark, my essential and only headgear and… left it in the fucking wardrobe. And the other in my tennis bag. And all the others wherever they have become randomly distributed around my life.

No hat. Hot sun. Hmmmm…

So I went and bought another. Because with a trip to Petra looming; an entire day out in the Jordanian desert, I didn’t want a fried head or scrambled brains. So I popped round to the local shops and perused. And ended up with this one. Because I thought it funny, nice, cool, statementy and rather fetching. I wore it on the walk back to Mel at the pool and the hat worked. Really well. It says upon it, in English and Hebrew: ISRAEL ARMY. So I wore it with mixed pride and irony.

Then, just 2 days later, as we set off southwards for the wedding, en route to Petra, I realised in one of those ‘eureka moments’ that this was in fact not really the best hat to take to Jordan. That the message spoken thereupon would not fill the natives with any feelings of humour, bonhomie or pride. They’d hate that hat. They might shoot it. Cut it off. I didn’t even want it in my bag when I crossed the border. It would be suicidal, like wearing at a Labour Party meeting. Deadly.

So I bought another-nother. It’s orange. With a little ‘NY’ on it. Neither of which would be preferences, but it was the cheapest in the shop. And I’m going to keep it for all my future visits to Arab countries because I realised that a Spurs hat, in the eyes of any football fan here, particularly David Baddiel, claims the wearer’s membership to the ‘Yid Army’. Which is tantamount, in the eyes of Jeremy Corbyn and many others, to the Israeli Army in that wonderful way they conflate Judaism with militaristic Zionism for simplistic ease and convenience.

How many fucking hats does a man need?

Happy Friday

A xxxx