Just as one might expect on any loyalist estate, dozens of Union Jacks flutter from the drab balconies of the high-rise flats. At Ballymena House, just off Winston Churchill Avenue, there are even one or two "No Surrender" placards.

But there are three key differences between here and Co Antrim; it's 30 degrees, they're Catholics, and they've already grasped the fact that Britain no longer wants them.

Still, Gibraltarians value highly the public trappings of British civilization: bad food, car clamping, Marks & Spencer, bobbies on the beat. You can get Bovril, Branston Pickle and tinned Hereford corned beef in the shops, and pay for it in sterling.

But if the thousands of British residents of Spain's Costa del Sol drop down to "Gib" expecting to find Rhodesia circa 1962, they must leave slightly disappointed in their colony.

For while Gibraltarians can speak English -- their entire school system is through the language -- they won't. At least, not to each other.

Instead, they speak Spanish -- specifically, the Spanish of the surrounding Andalusia. When they speak English to visitors, they do so with a markedly foreign accent. Distressingly, for the "Costa British" at least, this even includes the visually-familiar bobbies.

Gibraltar celebrated its 'National Day' on Tuesday, with almost one third of its 30,000 population cramming into the main square. The day, invented 10 years ago, is aimed at generating a sense of community in the face of Spain's persistent claim to "El Penon".

This year, it took on a new urgency and significance. Britain and Spain have agreed in principle that Gibraltar's sovereignty will in future be shared by the two countries. Irish political analysts are watching carefully, to see if the emerging model could be applied in the North.

Residents of El Penon are furious with the joint sovereignty plan, which they regard as a betrayal by Britain. They showed this in great numbers on Tuesday, with many wearing the red and white colours of Gibraltar's flag.

But the rally also served to underscore the vast cultural gulf that has opened between Gibraltarians and their motherland.

Whilst all of their T-shirts and placards were in English -- "100% British" and "No Surrender: Gibraltar is ours" were favourites -- the bearers behaved like a very Spanish crowd.

Everyone, including the warm-up disc jockey for the event, spoke in rapid-fire Spanish. Relatives kissed each other exuberantly and gushed over the babies, groups of schoolchildren danced and blew whistles, shouting "Arriba!"

The speeches, from an assortment of mostly low-ranking parliamentarians flown in from London, as well as Gibraltar's own chief minister Peter Caruana, merely added to the cultural muddle.

The most prominent of them, Tory shadow chancellor Michael Howard, succumbed to the confusion, telling the crowd of the import he attached to "this independence day".

Howard had no doubt noted that during Lord Bethal's speech, large sections of the crowd seemed to cheer at inappropriate moments -- as if they understood the names mentioned but not the full sentences.

So the former minister slowed down his speech pattern, enunciating each word in the way one must when one is add-ress-ing for-eign-ers.

He said a future Conservative government "would not be bound in any way, shape or form by any agreement that may be reached by the present government and the government of Spain on the future of Gibraltar".

Pressed later on this extraordinary commitment, he admitted that while the Tories would ignore an "agreement", they would be bound by a treaty. Gibraltar became British under the 1713 Treaty of Utrecht.

Caruana told The Sunday Business Post he regarded the joint sovereignty plan as "misconceived, untested and dangerous".

In Gibraltar -- or the North of Ireland, or anywhere else -- he added, such a project would be doomed to failure.

"If sovereignty means anything, it means on one hand an emotional sense of affinity, and on the other hand ultimate jurisdiction," Caruana said.

"Joint sovereignty commits people almost to a permanent state of schizophrenia -- and it just won't work," he added.

Caruana is holding a plebiscite on November 7; the proposition that El Penon should remain exclusively in British hands is expected to be supported by more than 90 per cent of voters. El Penon's chief minister, and most of its residents, see joint sovereignty as the first step to Spain recovering the Rock, a fate they regard with horror.

Gibraltar is part of the European Union, and its residents, as British subjects, have the same rights as other EU citizens. But Gibraltar is also a tax haven and, while individuals pay income tax at up to 30 per cent, companies pay little or nothing in tax, and there are no levies on wealth or transfers. Wages are higher than across the frontier, and a significant proportion of the workforce lives just the other side in La Linea.

In the past, the differential between Gibraltar and the rest of Andalusia was far greater. Until the 1970s and the start of mass tourism gave the Costa del Sol economy a massive boost, Andalusia was one of the poorest regions in Spain. Some Gibraltarians became used to looking down on their neighbours.

Also, tourism -- based mainly on the novelty of finding what appears to be an entirely British town, with red pillar boxes and fish `n' chips, in the middle of Andalusia -- is the mainstay of the economy.

It is easy to see why most residents feel they would go from being "special" to just another part of Spain -- albeit with an interesting history and gigantic natural feature in the form of El Penon itself.

But the Spanish, who waited 800 years to get the Arabs out of Andalusia -- only doing so in 1492 -- are patient.

And the British -- the real British, back in Britain -- have finally realised that in the long run, colonies are bad for them.