It’s Bastille day, everyone, the day when Punxsutawney Bastille is shown the shadow of a guillotine and shits himself until autumn. Love those old traditions, especially the ones that aren’t even true.
It’s also the day we remember the chart success of Captain and Bastille, who weren’t entitled to an official service rank and never even held hands.
Some like to eat packets and packets of Rowntrees Fruit Bastilles on this day. I pick out the red and purple ones and throw the rest at passing cars.
And there are always some taken with poetic muse – ba stille my beating heart…
Now you know as much about cultural whatnots as I do. Except I know more than you.