I am drinking tea right now, I sing in an Anglican church, I spell words correctly, and I long for my national health care. My grandfather’s family is from England, and I am in fact related (albeit distantly) to our own Francesca (through a different grandfather). I want Cadbury’s chocolate liqueur and a really good mince tart, which I can’t get in this country.
I’m about as English as you’re going to get from a Canadian living in America.
Yeah, that list really is a load of nostalgic crap - looks to me like somebody non-British drew it up and then got people to choose the “most British” things on it. Who would volunteer Buckingham Palace, for example? Not an especially memorable building, and not a place particularly dear to the nation’s heart. The only people who go there are tourists, and on a list of things to see in London I’d rank it at about no. 700, just behind a rather interesting telephone box in Islington.
And the Beatles? That’s another giveaway - for better or worse, the average Brit would be more likely to cite Robbie Williams or Radiohead as representing popular music. I like the Beatles, but they are only marginally more relevant than George Formby these days.
No, Jennyrosity’s list above is much closer to reality.
“Wif’ me lit’le ukulele in me ‘and,
Of course th’ people do not unnerstand!
As me muvver used t’ say,
'Son, you’ll never go astray
If you keep yer ukelele in yer 'and, son,
Keep yer ukelele in yer 'and!”
I still can’t get over that they’ve renamed Liverpool’s airport “John Lennon International” or something. Why don’t they just rename the city Beatlesville? All of which I only mention as an excuse to relate that joke on Have I Got News For You: the luggage handlers at John Lennon Airport have a new slogan - “imagine no possessions”
The words ‘culture’, ‘Newcastle’ and ‘Liverpool’ should never be used in the same sentence. You might as well make Scunthorpe city of culture by the same standards. Unless your idea of culture is armed robbery and/or burberry caps.
I would quite like to dig George Formby up and beat the living (?) shit out of him, stupid leaning against a lamppost buck toothed motherfucker that he was.
Some guy back where I come from used to do cover versions of his songs on a ukelel in the pub on a sunday dinnertime. He also wore leather trousers. I would like to kick his arse too.