10 Things Brits Do That Drive Me Crazy
10 Things Brits Do That
DRIVE ME CRAZY
.
Ok, maybe it has been the result of the last year and a half stretching everyone, including myself, Petrie dish thin. But I’ve been finding my tolerance lower than usual. I mean sub-zero, don’t look at me the wrong way, or I might have to squash your will to live, kinda low. As a result, a few things have bubbled to the surface I thought I’d take the time to share.
There are some things that the Brits do that I fail to understand or tolerate. I’m guessing there is an equally compelling list of rants that I’m sure drive Brits mental about their North American counterparts. And please…my British readers, bring forth your list.
Sure there are stereotypes between the stand-offish, horse-loving snobs with bad teeth versus the gun-wielding, overweight loud Trump supporters who want to Super Size everything. But for the most part, that’s not what my rant is about. On both sides of the ocean, there are good and not so good traits and customs.
Sure there were a few things that required a translation when I first arrived. For instance, I want to smoke a fag, or that meal was the dog’s bullocks (I still don’t know if that’s a good thing). Or, I’m starving, can’t wait for tea. Tea? Surely if you’re hungry, you require something more than a beverage. And further more, how is a cuppa tea their cure-all to all of life’s problems?
I want to go on record that there are many things that the Brits do better on a daily basis: mail delivery, garbage pickup, the social legitimization of day drinking and standing in orderly queues (line-ups) as if your mortal soul depended on it.
I mean just look at this photo of Brits queuing for Ed Sheeran. They organized themselves in a zigzag line with no barriers all on their own. I’m not sure if this is super impressive or super scary.
But as I am in one of my moods, I’m going to take this opportunity to rant, if for no other reason than my therapist advises me it might be safer for all those around me not to bottle it up.
So here is my list ~ 10 Things That Brits Do That Drive Me Crazy.
Room temperature water. If anyone knows me, even just a little, you’d know that room temperature drinking water has no place in my world. None! On average, it will take three asks to get a waiter to bring the refreshing icy tap water to my table. Sure the Brits will swim in ice water, but try asking for it at dinner.
Tipping. I’m still so confused. Do I, don’t I? Hairdresser, taxi-driver, waiter? Help!!
Can’t get a rare burger or even medium-rare. Sure, you can get a rare steak but not a burger, even if they are grinding that steak meat to make that burger. I have frequently offered to sign a waiver, releasing the restaurant and its employees from any liability if I drop dead from their rare cooked burger, but alas, the perfect burger in this country is more elusive than ice water.
Saying the word “schedule”. I pronounce it sked-ul, where it makes no unpleasant sounds or throws no spit when spoken. The Brits pronounce it sk’e jool, like they are trying to dislodge something stuck in their throat.
The “C” word that rhythms with “hunt”. This word is more frequent than room temperature water and can be pretty much lobbed into any conversation. I would not be surprised if even the Queen has dropped this “c” bomb from time to time. Still, it doesn’t matter how often I have heard it, it still makes me feel like a prudish school girl raised in a convent by nuns.
People always assuming I’m American. Of course, when I correct them, as I do, that is followed by a polite apology, which I have to say sounds more genuine in a British accent.
The overwhelming wafting smell of curry coming from my local Marks and Spencer.
Having to book a month in advance for a decent restaurant.
Non-refrigerated eggs. And good luck finding them in a grocery store as they could be absolutely anywhere.
A obsession with sports. Football (soccer), cricket, Rugby. I’ve even seen them over-enthusiastic about snooker. They gather in large drunken crowds, sing songs I can’t understand and need police on horseback to ensure that a riot doesn’t break out between two opposing teams. It’s a blood sport watching sport in the UK, says this Canadian.
So there you have it. I feel better now that I have got that off my chest. If you have other thoughts or if you Brits want to take the piss out of us Americans and Canadians, oh, go on then. And so you know my North American friends, “taking the piss” has nothing to do with going pint for pint at their friendly pub or a buddy bathroom break.
They might be speaking English, but it really is a local language.
Cheers.