I Have Met the British and They Are Me

I've been reading your comments posted pertaining to my last column on the Queen. I get the impression that there are many Americans who have some sort of inherent affinity for HM (I abbreviate to show my knowledge of all things British). Of course, I know there's at least one Limey in the crowd out there. He's the one who talks such funny English you can't even understand him if you can't watch his lips moving.
That's one of the irritating things about those English folk...they really don't speak English all that well. Oh, I suppose they muddle through well enough that most of us can make some semblence of what they're trying to say, but for the most part, they tend to mumble. I guess it's that stiff upper lip and all. And yet, they act as if they owned the language.
Speaking of stiff upper lips, what about the so-called British sense of humor. The British are so staid and yet nothing gives them the jollies so much as watching a man dress up like a woman.There's something about that, which really seems to strike a chord.
Something else about the British that bothers me is their sorry excuse for food. Think about it. How often have you said, "Gee honey, I'm really in the mood for a British restaurant tonight."? Maybe the last time you dressed in drag, but other than that...?
Not since Arthur Treacher's Fish and Chips restaurants closed down has there really been a great British restaurant.
And think about what they eat. Shepherd's Pie? Is that something akin to a cow patty? Sounds like it.
It's not that British food tastes bad. It's more that it doesn't taste at all. I believe if I were British I would probably not be so fat because the desire to eat would be almost nil. Of course the down side to being British, is that I'd be...well, I'd be British.
In some ways, the British are rather bland. I hope none of you Brits take that as offensive. I mean it in the nicest possible way. I have family from Scotland, not exactly Britain, but maybe it is. I never was good at Geography. Anyway most of these Scotish relatives are, to be painfully honest, very boring.
I don't know why they can't be as clever and delightful as I am, but, truth be told, they're just not. I guess that's the reason my family only holds reunions about once every fifty years. Everyone just goes to wherever the reunion is being held and just sits there looking at each other. Except for dearly departed Uncle John. He used to take his false teeth out for us kids. It was especially funny when he was dressed up in a bridal gown.
Once Uncle John died, I think the rest of the family kinda figured what's the use. We're just too boring to get together.
Other than their language, their humor, their food, and their personalities, I love the British. I would love to visit London someday. I hear the biggest attraction there is fog. Sounds like a lot of fun. Must be the British in me speaking. Wonder why I have such a burning desire to slip into something lacey?