First off blokes, what exactly is the name of your country? Is it England, Great Britain or the United Kingdom?
Why can’t you make up your bloody minds? England is okay, but Great Britain? Do you really need the pompous adjective? Other countries think they’re great too, but they don’t all advertise it in the title name. And let’s face it, maybe you were great once (if your idea of greatness was a king who beheaded his wives because it was somehow easier than just fooling around) but now it’s really just nostalgia for the good old days when you had a really swell navy and owned half the world.
We have as checkered a past as you do, but we don’t call ourselves “The Really Terrific United States of America.”
The same goes for United Kingdom. I mean, seriously? Kingdom? Newsflash: You don’t actually havea kingdom anymore, chaps. It’s gone. You’ve been kicked out of everywhere. You have an island with crappy weather and a few commonwealths, whatever that means. (Why do you Australians still pay homage to a Queen whose predecessors thought it would be a good idea to populate your country with convicts? Doesn’t that piss you off just a little?)
How come your actors can mimic American dialects so well but ours struggle with yours? You’re constantly showing up in our movies (we couldn’t find an American to play Lincoln?) I can see Derek Jacobi as a toothless, banjo-picking, moonshine-brewing Alabama half-wit but I cannot imagine Robert De Niro playing the Earl of Grantham. This is annoying.
Do the Italians call themselves the Roman Empire? I rest my case.
Yes, you gave us your language (and we managed to make it bland) but why can’t we get away with saying the really cool words like “wanker” and “bollocks”?
Why is everything “brilliant”? Sure, we Americans overuse the word “awesome” which reduces an appraisal of the Pyramids to the level of a description of some teenager’s new tattoo. But you’re supposed to be smarter than we are (do you ever call an actual smart person “brilliant”?) Find another adjective. Please. Even the scullery maid from Downton Abbey has a more imaginative vocabulary.
Speaking of Downton Abbey, why was it necessary for your upper class twits to change into over-starched shirts and black-tie monkey suits for dinner every single night? Sure, if you’ve been in a coal mine all day, I can see changing into a clean shirt and some decent slacks, but you haven’t been in a coal mine all day or otherwise soiled your day clothes. And why did you need six guys to take away the soup plates?
Fox hunting. Why is that fun? I don’t get it. The hounds do all the work. Why do they need you?
What is this fixation with tea? You show up at somebody’s house and right away your host asks, “cuppa tea?” Nobody ever declines or says, “Do you have any tomato juice?” We Yanks (why do you keep calling us that? Some of us like the Dodgers better) just say, “May I get you something to drink?” This opens up a wide variety of possibilities, many of them toxic.
And what’s with the word “bloody”? Why is everything bloody good or bloody awful? Why the gory connotation? If you cut your hand and it bleeds, are you “bloody bloody”?
Why do some of you still have titles? If you’re a Duke, what exactly are you Duke of? Nothing, that’s what. Back in the day, you had absurdly lavish estates with enough bedrooms to house half of Manchester, and way too many servants (please tell me why you couldn’t even figure out how to dress yourselves? It’s not rocket science) but now all you have is a pile of bricks that you can’t afford to maintain (boo hoo) so you’re selling your titles (mostly to Americans, I suspect.) That’s a really worthwhile investment. Now some random guy from Hoboken, New Jersey with a lot of money can spend a few hundred grand and be Joe Schmo, Duke of Whatever, but nobody will call him “Duke” unless that’s his first name.