We need Wales’ own Braveheart, and we need him now...

Feb 27 2008 by Dan O'Neill, South Wales Echo

AND a happy St Dai’s Day to you, too. Oh, and Dydd Gwyl Dewi Hapus to anyone in Pontcanna.

Ah yes, on Saturday we remember our patron saint.

But you can bet there’ll be no red line down Broadway. No Presidential hopefuls will take the salute at the Grand St David’s Day Parade – mainly because there AIN’T no Grand St David’s Day Parade.

But on March 17, Obama or Hilary or McCain, doubtless sporting green whiskers, maybe wearing those leprechaun hats, will be at the Grand St Patrick’s Day Parade.

And yes, there’ll be a green line down Broadway.

Listen, Noo York’s Jewish mayor Ed Koch used to waggle his shillelagh on the day.

The Italian mayor Fiorella la Guardia poured green sauce over his spaghetti. But no laver bread or leeks.

Scotland gets the treatment as well, especially on Burns Night when those same politicians chomp away on haggis and watch Braveheart or Rob Roy before bellowing Annie Laurie.

This Saturday you won’t hear Myfanwy in the Big Apple. Patagonia, maybe. But not New York.

How did the Irish do it? Easy! In song and story they’ve turned their patch into a shamrock-sprouting Shangri-La.

Not a dell, not a dingle has been overlooked by a selection of songsmiths who’ve never seen the Ould Sod.

So Bing Crosby took us from Galway Bay to Dear Old Donegal and even got away with a crime against humanity called When the Rose of Tralee Met Danny Boy (“There was love in their hearts, evermore”).

Meanwhile, Hollywood movies delighted the Irish Tourist Board, idealised versions of every exile’s dream of home like The Quiet Man, portraying a verdant paradise peopled by quaint old characters like Barry Fitzgerald, beauties along the lines of the gloriously red-headed Maureen O’Hara, starring with that American icon John Wayne.

Yes, they’re making a movie about Dylan and Caitlin but while it might go down OK in art houses (think Milk Wood), we need blockbusters like Braveheart and stars like Mel Gibson for international appeal.

The Scots go a bundle on William Wallace and Robert the Bruce – they’ve even got his face on their £20 notes. (No we haven’t GOT our own £20 notes).

So why no star-studded movie about our own fighter for freedom, the man who buckled a swash as heroically as Wallace or Rob Roy?

Russell Crowe as Owen Glendower (Whoops! Owain Glyndwr in Pontcanna)?

That story’s got everything, magnificent mountain scenery, an enchanting coastline, old castles – all here on tap. Catherine Zeta as Boudicca – big screen, not like the small screen version we’ve seen.

And if Dear Old Donegal conjures up visions of joy for just about everyone, what about Dear Old Pontypool? Or If You Ever Go Across The Bridge to Kairdiff? I’ll Take you Home Again, Ow Kid?

I’ve kept the biggest for last. The saga of Prince Madog, the Welshman who discovered America before Leif Ericson or Columbus.

If our tourist outfit can’t do something with him we don’t deserve the Grand St David’s Day Parade we’re missing out on. Quick, grab Anthony Hopkins while he’s still here.