Have you heard the one about...

Sometimes things happen and you just can't let them pass by without comment.  Sometimes a blog just writes itself but that doesn't mean I won't have a go.
Let's start with a couple of one liners, I don't expect any of these are tremendously new to you but bear with me:

How does an Essex girl turn the light off after sex?  She closes the car door.
What do you call a blonde with two brain cells? Pregnant.
What happened to the Irish Sea Scouts?  Their tent sank.
How do you get a Scotsman onto the roof?  Tell him the drinks are on the house.
What did the waiter ask the group of dining Jewish mothers?  Is ANYTHING all right?”

I could go on but I'm sure you really don't want me to.

So, what's this all about? I hear you ask.  Well the jokes are old and since the very beginning of time we have made fun of people.  Essex girls are easy and thick.  Blondes are easy and thick.  The Irish are thick.  The Scots are alcoholics and tight as a duck's arse.  Jewish mothers are overpowering.  Then there are regional jokes.  Just about every country has a dig at a neighbouring country or indeed a different part of the same country, but then in the case of Northerners this is fully justified.  We will make fun of people that are different to us.  I will enjoy the odd blonde Essex joke; I am neither blonde nor from Essex.  And now we (finally) reach today's topic.  Let's have a look at a picture....

The good looking kid in the bottom left corner is me aged 5 or thereabouts.  I know what you're all thinking and yes I was very cute.  So why do I show you this picture?  Two reasons I guess.
1.  My brother loathes public displays of his childhood photos.
2.  Despite my distinguished greying hair, I am a ginge.
There, that's i said, out in the open.  I haven't dyed my hair it has darkened as I have got older until the onset of a little grey.  There is a gingerist story on the BBC website today.  It's all over a card that Tesco were selling that says 'Santa loves all kids, even ginger ones'. And who has complained?  A red haired woman with red haired kids, for arguments sake, let's call her a ginger whinger.  Now, I don't believe for one minute that Tesco or the company that made the card are particularly gingerist.

Now, as previously noted, I am ginger.  I have ginger friends, not because they are ginger they just are (Steve, you know who you are) and I reckon this is damned funny.  I am simply gutted that I didn't see the card on sale before it was pulled.  I'd have bought a couple.  I don't understand where the ginger jokes started from (or blonde jokes come to that)  but, back to where I started, we will have a laugh at anyone.  If you are offended by people having a laugh at you get a a grip.  I remember being called all sorts of ginger names at school - duracell, copper knob, carrot top, I very much doubt there are many I haven't heard and the best repost?  I would just say 'yes'.  I am ginger and proud.  Aside from that, it is indeed true that those of us who are blessed with this delightful titian shade don't go bald.  So I may be a little silver but will never be thin on top, never have the male pattern M shape, never need a comb over.  Oh no, full head of hair right to the end.  Whose laughing now?