Germany Calling, Germany Calling.
Apparently I qualify to play football for the German national team. And the Polish national team...oh and Scotland of course. Ignore for the moment the minor detail that I can't kick a ball for toffee, I'm just talking about birthplaces here. You see, my father was a Polish citizen before the second world war, but he was actually born while his parents were working temporarily, just over the border, in eastern Germany. My mother was born in Glasgow.
So three different football associations could, at any time, offer me my first international cap, but, to date, not one has been on the phone.
I mention the German connection because yesterday the Hamburg-based firm, , bought a clutch of local commercial radio stations, including two that were once foolish enough to employ me: Moray Firth Radio in Inverness and Radio Clyde in Glasgow.
Radio Clyde, as you may know, is based in Clydebank and some of the sale felt it necessary to mention how Nazi bombers once laid waste to that part of Scotland. I'm surprised they didn't also shoe-horn in a mention of , the famous propaganda broadcaster. Perhaps he could have been cited as an example of Germany's long history of making radio programmes for British audiences.
Yet we do seem to pick and choose the bits of German culture that suit us. Christmas trees, for example, became fashionable in Britain because Queen Victoria's German hubby started hauling them into various palaces.
And today, while Christmas shopping in Inverness, I noticed that Falcon Square had been transformed into a little Barvarian village, complete with skating rink and sausage stall.
Not that I could risk sampling any of the food. I've got to keep myself in shape...just in case I get that call-up.
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