Bored and isolated and bearing flags

Driving through a moutainous area on the way to Prizren in the south of Kosovo.

Pulling out onto the road is a car of young men. Large Serbian flags on poles protrude from the windows. They have a look of naked menace about them, and for good reason. They live in a tiny Serb enclave, surrounded by Albanians. They are hours' drive away from Serbia and the Serb-dominated areas in the north.

They have nothing to do, except, that is, drive around defiantly stating their nationhood. They have already graffitied out the Albanian names on the dual language street signs. The temptation to make the occasional aggressive foray into Albanian territory must be huge.

Young Serbian men like these have no immediate prospect of doing well in Kosovo. They cannot get good work, they cannot mix with the Albanians who run the country, and they can't even go to a town to enjoy themselves on a Saturday night.

And yet these poor, isolated people are declared national heroes back in Serbia. They know that Kosovo, in particular the monasteries and churches which are the foundation of the Serbian Orthodox Church, are the soul of the nation. That is an almost mythic status which is of no benefit to them in real terms.

That overused phrase, 'being on the wrong side of history', seems terribly appropriate here, however menacing these men look.