Citizenship

It's been a long haul but after 16 years as the greased pig I finally made it to wrestler. To put it plainly; I have become a US Citizen. I still hang on to the edge of my battered old British passport (I once left it on the counter at, Harry Ramsden Fish 'n' Chip Emporium). Now, but now, I have a new blue passport entitling me to all the same freedoms and fears as my neighbours . To get it I went through all of the procedures but I wasn't expecting to feel the way I did when I actually received the big blue book. I held the new and old side by side and looked at the English me and the US me. I suddenly felt the need to buy black polo sweaters and drive around in an Aston Martin, concealing my dual passports in a secret compartment in my attaché case. Luckily I already had an attaché case and not being able to afford a DB5 I opted for the black polo-neck ($13.59 at Targét). Standing in line I suddenly realised, "I'm not special anymore"! Overnight my accent had gone from a rather interesting English to just another yank posing as eurotrash to pick up the girls. "Goddammit" I thought breaking into my second packet of Doritos and spilling orange staining crumbs down the front of Angelina Jolie. I'm just a face in the tank fighting for recognition with another 250 million Dockers. I need something to make me feel special again. The idea of crushing an ill defended minor country suddenly began to feel appealing.