Marko Pulenović Turns Four

A couple of days ago (1st August) was the fourth anniversary of my arrival in Serbia. Four whole years in Belgrade and I’m still making more grammatical errors than a dyslexic Nišljanin or a Microsoft Word spellchecker.

And it was on the occasion of my alter-ego’s fourth birthday that I sat back and reflected upon why I haven’t really gone native after all, though a large body of evidence suggests that I have become a ‘Srbenda’: my tendency to indulge in a breakfast consisting of strong, black, bitter ‘Turkish’ coffee and two cigarettes; my love of greasy burek with yoghurt (which I hated when I first arrived); my tendency to instinctively swear in Serbian if some idiot cuts me off in my car or I stub my toe, the fact that I know the words to quite a few EKV and Partibrejkers songs and am always quick to defend Serbia; the fact that I’m immediately turned off by anyone who listens to music I don’t consider ‘normal’ or frequents bars I consider too ‘fancy’ or too much of a ‘rupa’ (hole) and, as ‘Colin/bgd’ quite rightly pointed out in an earlier comment, I’ve “mastered the only true discipline of every native "serb-warrior-jedi" master: self-delusion”.

But none of these newfound traits of mine really suggest that I’ve gone native. Rather, they simply testify to the fact that I’ve grown emotionally attached to the place; Belgrade has become like my lover and when I defend Serbia it is as though I’m protecting her. 

It is this emotional attachment and unwavering defence that makes it seem as though I’ve gone native, when in fact I’m still the same big daft Hullian I always was.

Marko Pulenović’s Serbian ‘pride’ and ‘patriotism’ are a direct reflection of my own Kingstonian patriotism, which requires me to regularly defend my own great city from the accusations of other Brits – usually southern toffs or cockney gits who’ve never even been to Hull but still suggest that it’s the worst city in the UK.  

The people of Hull, like the people of Belgrade, are very proud of their city and its achievements, and they quickly lose their cool with any outsiders who criticise it.

Hull people have a very ‘independent’ attitude in general (see Salako’s song ‘Hull’s Too Good for England’), mainly because the rest of the country sees no value whatsoever in Hull and her people.  

Hullians are extremely proud of the fact that we’re the only city in the UK that boasts its own telecommunications company (Kingston Communications) instead of British Telecom – no imperial telephone operators for us, thanks.

Kingstonians are immensely proud of the fact that we forced the Tory government to abandon notions of taking Hull out of Yorkshire and placing us in ‘Humberside’ – a stupid modern country formed in 1974 and, thankfully, scrapped in 1996.     

Hullians are proud of their seafaring history and equally proud of their huge North Sea ferry, not surprisingly called ‘The Pride of Hull’.

It is this fierce defence of one’s home, pride in the city one calls home, complete refusal to pay any attention to either valid or invalid opinions criticising one’s home city/land and penchant for violent reactions to criticisms that make the people of Hull great adopted citizens of Serbia. 

Whilst exploring the notion that parallels can be drawn between the mentalities of the people of Hull and the people of Serbia, it occurred to me that Hullian and Deputy British PM, John ‘Two-Jags’ Prescott, could do wonders for relations with Serbia were he to become the next ambassador to Belgrade.

Prescott, a big fat Jaguar (actually two Jaguars) driving former Dockers Union leader who graduated from Oxford (some polytechnic in Oxford and not the famous old university) and shot to nationwide fame (infamy) after being filmed punching a Welshman who threw an egg at him during a pre-election campaign walkabout in Wales, would be the perfect ambassador to Belgrade.  

The current practice of sending extremely cultured, well-educated, immaculately mannered, prize diplomats to Belgrade is a lost cause when one considers that the majority of Serbian politicians are more Prescott-like than Gowan-esque.

Where Prescott to come to Belgrade as ambassador, it would allow the Serbian people and political scene to see that like-minded thugs do indeed hold senior government positions in leading western countries and, thus, Serbia isn’t so different after all. 

Britain could offer a major aid package linked to a prize fight between Prescott and Velja Ilić.

“In the red corner, fighting out of Sutton-on-Hull and weighing in at 17-stones of Yorkshire beef, the infamous Welshman-Whacker, the Docker Decker, British Deputy Prime Minister Big JJJJJJJJohny boy Prescottttttttttt” (cheers and jeers). 

“And in the blue corner, fighting out of Velja’s Čačak and weighing in at 250,000 tonnes of unused motorway material, the notorious Media-Hack Hitter, King of Čačak, the Mercurial Highway Promiser, its Serbian Capital Investment Minister VVVVVVVeljaaaaa Iliććććććććććć” (applause and boos)….

“Let’s get ready to Rumble e e e e!!!”  

Are there any fight promoters out there who wouldn’t be up for seeing Velja and Johnboy knock ten bells out of each other for the sake of bilateral Anglo-Serbian relations?