Being British. Lesson one.

It seems there’s some international confusion on being British. So I shall help fix this conundrum.

The first step to being British is embracing our obsession with tea. We like tea, we honestly feel it solves everything. But we also take it seriously. No joking matter. It’s either PG Tips or Earl Grey with a slice of lemon. No half measures. Or Tetley. And no, we don’t want a china cup, give us a mug. A proper mug. And a biscuit wouldn’t go amiss. Ta very much.

We may not take our tea ceremonies as seriously as ancient Japan, but we’re pretty close. Oh, and iced tea is one of the worst inventions ever.

Second. We’re very attached to our hatred of our weather. Yes, we whinge about it, but that’s because we’ve earned the right to. We drown for nine months of the year and freeze the other three. But for a blissful fortnight in the middle we don knotted hankies, shrunken shorts, bad vests and ugly sandals and bake in the sun. We like burning ourselves, thank you, we’ve become very good at it by holidaying in such exotic locations as the Costa Del Sol, Tenerife and occasionally Disney World.

Third, we view our pets as family. We talk to them, have funerals for them and give them strange names like Mr Whiskers or Boo. As a nation we’re split into four groups: Dog people, cat people, exotic pet people (snakes, lizards, spiders and parrots) and useless pet people (tortoises, rabbits and the like) but then we decided we were farmers. We started keeping chickens and bees, but we couldn’t let the ‘pet’ thing go. Thus we have chickens in knitted sweaters called Mrs Dumpling.

Oh, yes, if you’re going to use numbers in something, for gods’ sake, stick to one medium!

Fourth, our gods vary wildly between God, Allah, Buddha, Darth Vader and ‘not applicable’. But don’t try to make us follow your religion, we take umbrage with that!
We like to think of ourselves as occasionally religious, normally when our car won’t start, when we stub our toe or when we’re stuck in traffic. But otherwise, let us celebrate our religion in our own way: Laying in bed praying for work to be closed for the day.

Fifth, Marmite. Get off, it’s ours to hate. Or some weirdos here actually like it. Demented weirdos. It may be the devils arse crack sweat, but it’s our devils arse crack sweat. Like our weather, we’ve earned the right to bitch about it.

Sixth, (and really rather important) manners cost nothing. Seriously, nothing at all. They’re as free as the air. If someone holds a door open for you, damn well say thank you. If someone is close behind you, hold the damn door. (Oh gods, too much Game of Thrones!) We drive on the left here, move the hell over! If you’re driving, and someone lets you out, say thank you, or show a hand, that’s how we so it here. If everyone let one person out at junctions, traffic jams would cease to exist. When I rule the country I may make that a law. Manners cost precisely sod all.

Well, class, I think that’s us done for today, we’ll be back soon with more lessons in being British. Ta-ra loves!


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