Kitabı oku: «We’re British, Innit: An Irreverent A to Z of All Things British»

Contents

Introduction

Alcopops

Ale

Allotments

Amateurism

Ants

Apologising

The Archers

Architecture

Argos

Aristocracy

ASBOS

Autumnwatch/Springwatch

Badgers

Baked beans

Bandstands

Bangers and mash

Baths

Beach huts

The Beatles

Bed and breakfast

Beefeaters

Binge drinking

Bisto

Blanket

Blitz spirit

Blue Peter

Blyton, Enid

Boat race

Bond, James

Boudica

Bowler hats

Boxing day

The BBC

Britpop

Brussels sprouts

Bulldog

Bunting

Burberry

Burns, Robert

Caravanning

Carry On

Changing the Guard

Chav

Cheese rolling

Chips with

Church bells

Churchill, Winston

Church of England

Cider

Civil service

Class

Commonwealth

Constitution

Coo-ee

Cooking lager

Cool Britannia

Corner shop

Coronation Street

Cricket

Cricket test

Crumpets

Cucumber sandwiches

Custard

Daffodils

Darwin, Charles

Deckchairs

Deep frying

Dickens, Charles

Dining at the roadside

Doctor Who

Dogging

Dogs

Dog poo

Dole

Donkeys

Double-deckers

Double entendre

Drag

Dr Martens boots

Eastenders

Eccentricity

Elgar, Edward

Empire

The English Channel

Ernie

Exploration

Faggots

Fêtes

Fish and chips

Five words

Flasks

Floral clocks

Folk music

Football

Football phone-in shows

Football pools

Fox hunting

Fried breakfast

Fried chicken

Fruitcake

Fudge

Garden fences

Gardening

The Germans

Gin and tonic

Glastonbury

Glyndebourne

Gnomes

Golf

Gossip

Grammar

Grand National

Greasy spoons

Great Britain

Green fields

Guy Fawkes Night

Hackney carriage

Haggis

Half day closing

Harrods

Harris Tweed

Having a go

Hedgerow

Holiday camps

Home internationals

Homosexuality

Hoodies

Hornbies

Horse racing

House prices

HP Sauce

Iceland

Immigration

Imperial mesaurements

Innit

Inventors

Irn Bru

It’s a Knockout

Jerusalem

Jordan

Jumble sales

Kagouls

King Henry V

King Henry VIII

Kissing

Knotted handkerchiefs

Kray twins

Languages

Lawns

Leaving the country

Limousines

Local

Loch Ness Monster

Lock-in

Lurgy

Magna Carta

Marks and Spencer

Marmalade

Marmite

Mathematical possibility

Milkman

Mini

Mini skirt

Model villages

Monarchy

Monty Python

Morris dancing

Mushy peas

Mustn’t grumble

National Anthem

National Health Service

National Lottery

National Trust

Nation of animal lovers

Nelson

Net curtains

Newsnight

Nighties

Oak trees

Old money

Ordnance Survey

Orwell, George

Ovaltine

Oxbridge

Page 3

Panic buying

Pantomime

Passport

Pasties

Pea soupers

Pebbly beaches

Perry, Fred

Pie, mash and liquor

Piers

Pies

Pigeons

Pimms

Police

Poppies

Poor service

Pork scratchings

Pot noodle

Princess Diana

Proms

Pub crawls

Public school

Pubs

Pub triples

Puddings

Punch and Judy

Punk

Queen Elizabeth I

Queen Elizabeth II

Queen’s English

Queen Victoria

Queuing

Radio 4

Rain

Rambling

Readers’ wives

Red Arrows

Rhubarb

Richard, Cliff

Rich Tea biscuits

Roast beef

Robin Hood

Robins

Rock

Rolling hills

Rolls Royce

Rounds

Royal Mail

Royaume Uni

Rude vegetables

Rugby

St Andrew

St David

St George

St George’s flag

St Patrick

Saying hello

Schadenfreude

Scones

Seaside

Shakespeare, William

Shipping forecast

Shock jocks

Skin

Smash

Socks with sandals

Sounds of Britain

Sovereign rings

Sparrows

Spitfire

Spotters

Stag nights

Stiff upper lip

Stonehenge

Strippers

Suet

Sundays

Swinging Sixties

Tabloids

Tea

Tea (as a meal)

Teeth

Telephone boxes

Tennent’s Super

Texting

Thatcher, Margaret

Thomas, Dylan

Times crossword

Tit Tuesday

Tizer

Torremolinos

Tower of London

Town criers

Truculence

The Tube

Tunnock’s

2-Tone

Umbrellas

Understatement

Union Flag

Unswerving Optimism

VAT

Vesta

Vests

Vicars

Villages

V-sign

Wanker

War games

Warm beer

Weather

Whisky

White Cliffs of Dover

Wimbledon

Wimpy

Working men’s clubs

World War II

Xenophobia

X Factor

X-ray

Yard of ale

YBAs

Yellow lines

Y-fronts

Yobs

Zero tolerance

Z-list

Zoophilia

How British Are You?

Acknowledgements

Index

Copyright

About the Publisher

Introduction

Whether we see ourselves in the misty mornings of George Orwell’s describing, Bill Bryson’s fondly mocking words, the photographs of Martin Parr or the characters of Little Britain, we Brits are always looking to work out who we are and to maintain our idea of what it is to be British. As an island race, this identity is of paramount importance to us, and one that we have literally fought to maintain over the years. Yet, ask any group of Britons what the ideas, characteristics or items that define the nation are and you will get myriad different answers. It could be fish and chips, a sense of fair play or simply the ability to form an orderly queue at the drop of a hat. Though those questioned are just as likely to pick up on our love of tea, our complete disdain for the metric system or our ability to rattle on endlessly about the weather. Whatever Britain is, it does not stay the same for long. We know what we like and we love our traditions, but we are also endlessly adaptable and willing to give things a go. How else do you explain the success of the chicken tikka massala or dado rails?

This A-Z of Britishness is an attempt to finally pin down what it is that makes us British in the twenty-first century, as well as allowing you to measure your character, loves and dislikes against what I feel is the most definitive list yet created. Think of it as a kind of Citizenship Test for those who already hold a passport or as an alternative learning guide for those who wish to get their hands on one. This is the real Britain, not one filtered through the eyes of civil servants and politicians. This is the dictionary of the Britain that you know and love, whether you ever whisper those three little words to it or not. This is not the sterile Britain shown in the photographs of a pamphlet issued by Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, rather this is the Britain that finds Barbara Windsor as inspiring as Winston Churchill, the Britain that is still mildly suspicious of the ‘continental’ quilt. It is the Britain that wept for Princess Diana yet thinks her brother is a bit smug, the Britain that knows that pub that shows the football on a dodgy satellite hook-up from Turkey. It is the Britain that keeps our manicured lawn so tidy by throwing the slugs over the neighbour’s fence and the Britain that pays the babysitter in alcopops.

This being a list of all things British, it will of course contain a good degree of the humour that we have become noted for. Endlessly self-deprecating, the British sense of humour is a huge part of our make-up. The ability to laugh at ourselves during times of turmoil, tragedy and the wrong kind of snow is what keeps us going when things are at their darkest, which is generally during an August Bank Holiday. Often painted as a pessimistic ‘glass half-empty’ nation, we merely have a point of view that the rest of Europe and the world do not understand. After all, a glass half-empty means that it is probably someone’s round. Cheers! Mine’s a pint of Spitfire. They don’t like it up ‘em the Germans.

Naturally, musing on nationhood and Britishness brings up questions of nationality, nationalism, devolution and where we stand as this uneasy alliance of England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. Is the West Lothian question getting easier every year? And will the broadsheets soon contain pictures of gorgeous blonde twins who have answered it correctly? When are we Great Britain, when are we the United Kingdom and when are we the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland? One thing is for sure, and that is that we are Royaume Uni during the Eurovision Song Contest. This is the only time, apart from during a particularly good Euromillions rollover, when we are ever allowed to think of ourselves as a part of Europe as a whole. Camp disco and camper heavy metal, yes. Single currency and kilometres, no. Such is the complicated nature of Britishness.

Within these pages you will find reference to everything from the rolling hills to the rolling cheeses that descend them on a summer’s day. There are the people who have a special place in our history and those who have a special place in our hearts. Then there are the sights, sounds and even smells that make Britain what it is. Some of you are bound to disagree with the final selections, but let’s not fight about it. Or if we do then at least let us take our jackets off before we begin; after all we are not French. There is an email address at the bottom of the page where you can send your suggestions, condemn me for treason or simply send pictures of things that you think scream Britishness.

Though try not to send those pictures you took to ‘just try out’ your new digital camera. Readers’ Wives is indeed included in this book, but that doesn’t mean I want to see your partner spread-eagled on your DFS corner suite.

For variety, I have variously referred to the subject of this book as the United Kingdom, Britain, Great Britain and various derivations thereof throughout the book. But whichever term I have used I mean the same place: This Sceptered Isle, Blighty, the Queen’s gaff. Our home.

Please send your suggestions for what I have missed to youidiot@britishinnit.com. The five most glaring omissions will be written up by me and included in the paperback edition of the book (and you will, of course, get a copy).

A
ALCOPOPS

Although originally an Australian import, the alcopop became very much a part of the British way of life during the youth alcohol crisis of the 1990s. Teenagers were simply not consuming enough booze, which alcoboffins put down to them not wanting to acquire a taste through beer, cider or Buckfast as their parents had done. The instant gratification generation was in danger of being lost to sobriety, thoughtfulness and good deeds, so the booze manufacturers simply added a 5 per cent alcohol content to the teens’ favourite soft drinks. This allowed them to get hammered on familiar flavours and had the added advantage of allowing them to get their friends unwittingly drunk as well. The side effect of this increase in teen drinking was a correlating rise in teen pregnancy, ensuring that the pensions crisis may yet be averted. Plans to reintroduce milk to primary schools as a 3 per cent alcohol ‘alcomilk’ are merely rumours at the time of going to press.

ALE

If someone comes into your local pub (see pubs) asking the landlord if his beer is alive, they are probably not some kind of extreme animal-rights type who only eats wind-fallen apples and keeps yeast as a pet. They are most likely a real ale enthusiast. An unkempt beard and enormous gut may be other clues to look out for, but nowadays more presentable human beings are enjoying the taste of our country’s ales. There have even been unconfirmed reports that a woman ordered some in the Midlands last year. It is very easy to laugh at hardcore real ale fans. So let’s stop for a moment to do that. Okay, that’s enough. Ale is one thing we do fantastically well in Britain, but it has been largely usurped by the search for the ever-colder pint of lager, with drinkers in the south preferring something approaching a lager Slush Puppy over a beer they can taste. Real ale brewers don’t help themselves by calling their brews Old Dogge Bollocke or giving it some name and back story that you need to have a PhD in naval history to appreciate.