Time was in Primary School, students' pictures of February would be represented by snowdrops and whatnot. But that's unlikely to happen nowadays, as 1) Michael Gove would replace art with testing the shit out of everything if he had half a chance and 2) early Spring vistas more closely resembles a busy Saturday car park in Atlantis.
So there we all were, tucking in to a delicious roast beef, enjoying our Sunday lunch, discussing the terrible weather with my American friends. And as they started talking about American Football I went and spoiled it all by asking something stupid like "so what's your favourite Superbowl food? Is there a top 5?"
Brits - including our political leaders - prefer to sit around moaning. Our best days are behind us, they say. 'Little Britain syndrome' has taken ahold throughout the nation. I tell you what will get rid of it: a dose of British optimism to snap us out of our funk. We need that half-time ad, reminding us that we too are a great country capable of digging ourselves out of a hole.
Sure the bird-flip was pretty ill-judged - but when you book a provocative performer like M.I.A what did they expect? Given the utter degeneration and hyper-sexualisation of our current crop of female pop performers, in terms of debasing, offensive, inappropriate performances, M.I.A.'s middle-finger salute was little more than a cheeky nose-thumbing.