We're British, Innit Read online

  WE’RE BRITISH, Innit

  AN IRREVERENT A-Z OF

  ALL THINGS BRITISH

  IAIN AITCH

  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

&
nbsp; 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 [email protected]. 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.

  ALLOTMENTS

  Like a kind of
poor man’s golf club, the allotment has traditionally been seen as a place for a man to be out in the open air, away from his wife and amongst specialist equipment. The knitwear tends to be more downbeat, but there is the added advantage of a shed in which to store pornographic magazines, pipe tobacco and a bottle of something warming. Of course, allotments are also places that can be used to grow vegetables and they are becoming popular once again with city dwellers as the trend for organic and local food grows. Allotments have been around since the eighteenth century, but they really came into their own with the advent of World War II and the Dig For Victory campaign, which encouraged Britons to grow their own food. Allotments are generally owned by local councils or by allotment associations, with the annual rent being fairly cheap. In big cities there are waiting lists for allotments, which also enjoyed a 1970s boom in popularity when The Good Life showed us that self-sufficiency might lead to the ability to make our own cut-price wine or the possibility of sleeping with Felicity Kendall.

  AMATEURISM

  Sport in Britain was initially divided upon class lines, with superior sporting character bestowed upon those who could afford to compete for the love of the game and those who took a wage being seen as belonging to the lower orders. This distinction can be seen in the naming of the famous Gentlemen versus Players cricket matches of the nineteenth century (see cricket). The Gentlemen were the amateurs and the Players were the professionals, which cast those good enough to play for a living as less-than-noble money-grubbing savages. This belief in the idea of amateurism being a more tasteful and morally superior pursuit has pervaded British society ever since, resulting in our propensity to have a go at any number of things rather than commit ourselves to becoming proficient enough to excel in one. This spirit can be seen in our bank holiday rush to the DIY superstores, our love of gardening and our desire to visit Ann Summers of a weekend. The utensils from all three pastimes may be interchangeable, but some of these things really are best left to a professional.