We're British, Innit

by Iain Aitch

GIN AND TONIC

  This popular cocktail was invented in India by medics in the British Army, who had to find a way of making the anti-malarial drug quinine palatable to the troops. The tree bark extract, which is an ingredient of tonic water, is extremely bitter and the gin masked its flavour, as well as being alcohol. And what Brit doesn’t like alcohol, eh? (See binge drinking.) Commercial tonic waters are now less bitter, as they contain less quinine and more sugar. Quinine has become outmoded as an anti-malarial, as scientific advances have unearthed more effective drugs. But no British pub would be complete without a bottle of London (or Plymouth) gin on show and a crate full of tonic bottles. Despite its army connections, gin and tonic is most often considered to be a lady’s drink, perhaps due to the associations with grimey 1960s ‘kitchen sink’ dramas where women from the north of England (usually played by Rita Tushingham) would drink a good deal of the stuff before having a hot gin bath in an attempt to effect a home abortion.

  GLASTONBURY

  This Somerset town, with its famous tor, is said to have been the seat of Arthurian legends as well as the site where Jesus may have walked upon England’s green and pleasant land (in the hymn Jerusalem) (see jerusalem), though most of us know Glastonbury for its connection to the pop festival of the same name, which actually takes place at nearby Pilton on Michael Eavis’s Worthy Farm. Originally a hardcore hippie event that was a benefit for the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament and attended by those who had celebrated the Solstice at Stonehenge, Glastonbury Festival is now a symposium for current and future middle management types, where break-out rooms and opportunities for blue-sky thinking have replaced teepees and drinking mushroom tea to open your mind, though falafel is still the only food available. Each year the rest of the nation prays for rain and revels in the Somme- like conditions endured by those attending, noting that only a barrage from an array of field guns could make matters marginally more amusing.

  GLYNDEBOURNE

  Like the Glastonbury Festival without chins (see aristocracy), the Glyndebourne Festival Opera is a big seasonal musical celebration for those who consider Mahler to be ghastly pop music for young people with long hair and poor hygiene. Social status at Glastonbury may be established by who has the best drugs, but at Glyndebourne it is established by who has the richest father, the most expensive picnic blanket and how many servants it took to prepare or collect the picnic spread upon it. Tickets are allocated on a strict system of entitlement: members of the landed gentry are served first; those with a Who’s Who entry second, and any tickets then left are made available to the hoi polloi.

  GNOMES

  The garden gnome is actually a German invention, but let’s ignore that shall we? After all, we did finally let Prince Philip bring over his German relations for his Diamond wedding anniversary in 2007. The humble gnome, whether he is fishing, pushing a wheelbarrow or simply basking in the sun, has grown in popularity since his introduction in the mid-nineteenth century, and the garden ornaments now are a symbol of the British suburban garden. Frowned upon as unspeakably common by some gardeners, the gnome is often viewed as a rather crude decoration, which has not been helped by the introduction of mooning gnomes and even naked gnomes. Often the subject of childish practical jokes, gnomes are one of the most frequently stolen items from British gardens, and are usually the victims of kidnap by shady groups like the Gnome Liberation Front or Middle-Aged Men With Too Much Time On Their Hands (as they are also known). Some say that garden gnomes do possess mystical powers, while others claim that it is very bad luck to smash up your neighbour’s gnomes with a cricket bat, especially if they have CCTV in their garden.

  GOLF

  Thought to have originated in Scotland in the twelfth century, golf has been delaying Sunday lunch and annoying golf-sceptic spouses ever since. Traditionally a game of the middle-aged and the middle class, a round of golf has long been seen as a place to secure business deals as well as to build a tolerance for brightly coloured trousers and Argyll jumpers. Between the ages of 42 and 60, 47 per cent of British men will buy a pair of red or yellow trousers from Marks and Spencer and wear them an average of once before realising how ridiculous they look. With its endless gadgetry and inbuilt snobbery, golf is the perfect game for the British man, affording plenty of opportunities for one-upmanship, a crafty drink and time away from the wife. Golf is played over 18 holes, though most golfers will tell you that their favourite hole is the 19th: this is how the bar at the end of the course is referred to. No matter how many times they repeat this, golfers will always think that this piece of information is far more amusing than it actually is. If you are particularly snooty then you will pronounce golf as ‘goff’, which makes it sound like a game for depressed 15-year-olds who like cider and black clothes, ignoring the fact that the pale-faced teens would be scared off by the potential for exercise and the prevalence of polo shirts in the clubhouse.

  GOSSIP

  Whether it is over the garden fence, in the pages of magazines like Heat, Now and Closer or on websites like Popbitch and Holy Moly, we simply cannot get enough gossip in the UK. The newspapers employ columnists to keep us updated on political and pop gossip, while a wicked whisper about an un-named celebrity can bring offices to a halt until the name of the miscreant has reached everyone by email. We even have mini-skirted slatterns going out of their way to sleep with celebrities purely so that they can 'shag and brag' in the tabloid press for a cash payout. You might think that celebrities would grow tired of this kind of coverage, but many now employ publicity companies to make sure that their cellulite gets a decent page position and that their sexual peccadilloes make the front pages. Some celebrities even cultivate gossip-worthy stories to keep them in the pages of the press, and plastic surgeons are now seeing a growing demand for operations to add cellulite, as that usually gets more coverage than weight loss or a breast enlargement. Various celebrities, who I cannot name, are rumoured to have discussed having facial warts grafted on or an arm amputated in order to get front- page coverage from Heat.

  GRAMMAR

  In some parts of the UK, grammar is the woman who is married to your grandfather, but in recent years we have begun to once again appreciate the beauty of our language, thanks largely to the slew of books and TV programmes on the subject. As a rule, we don’t bother with all that masculine/ feminine stuff that so blights other languages and makes them hard to learn, but we do have standards, and even dedicate some of our schools solely to the pursuit of good grammar. These schools are largely located in areas politically dominated by the Conservative Party whose members have impeccable manners and faultless grammar, which usually comes in handy when explaining away a mistress or making a commitment to social housing while trying to maintain a straight face. Novelist and columnist Tony Parsons once described Britain’s grammar schools as ‘public schools without the sodomy’.

  GRAND NATIONAL

  This jump race is the biggest horse race in the UK calendar and attracts more office sweepstakes, one-time bets and comment than any other race. Only the Derby comes close in terms of interest, but there is something about the combination of the huge field of runners, the arduous course and the risk of injury or death to both horse and rider that appeals to our love of animals, sport and carnage. The race, which is held at Aintree, is run over a distance of just over four miles, with challenging fences such as the Chair, Becher’s Brook and the Canal Turn all being familiar names to most Brits. Rules of the Grand National state that anyone watching at home is allowed to slap any member of the family who asks why the horses with no riders aren’t allowed to win the race.

  GREASY SPOONS

  That one of Britain’s culinary institutions is named after some badly-washed cutlery will probably come of no surprise to any foreign visitors who have accidentally wandered in to these temples to coronary heart disease. Famed for their vast all-day breakfasts (see fried breakfast), fast turnaround and industrial strength tea, these cafés keep the building trade and white van man topped
up with just enough saturated fat to keep them going without them keeling over clutching their chest until the job is done. This is a very subtle and difficult balance to maintain, with skilled greasy spoon artisans honing their arts over a lengthy career at the hotplate. They should be able to simultaneously fry six eggs, pour a dozen teas (with three sugars each), tot up a bill, give out some racing tips and read the Sun. Greasy spoon coffee is deliberately kept undrinkable. This serves the purpose of keeping out the middle classes and gangs of yummy mummies with buggies as well as ensuring that painters and plasterers don’t get all jittery by mid-afternoon.

  GREAT BRITAIN

  In Britain we have a confusion of names that we can refer to when someone asks where we come from. We could say England, Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland, we could say the United Kingdom or we could even say the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. But by far the best answer to give is Great Britain. Historians suggest that the name comes from a description of the main landmass of Britain, which ignores the smaller islands and Northern Ireland. But the name is so obviously a superlative about how fantastic we all are and has been accepted by the rest of the world as just that. Other countries did consider adding descriptive terms to their names, but no one could really agree on the right prefix. The French were not happy with ‘Garlicky’ and Germany didn’t like that fact that its near neighbours suggested both ‘Likely to Start a War’ and ‘Excrement- Obsessed’ to describe the nation. Likewise, Belgium didn’t like the disdain implied in the name ‘Probably Belgium’.

  GREEN FIELDS

  The green areas that surround our towns and which make up our countryside are an important factor in our national identity. We see ourselves as a green and pleasant land and identify with images of rolling hills, the jagged matrix of farmland and the hedgerows that surround them. Without our green fields there would be nowhere for builders to dump rubble and old kitchen suites, for huntsmen to flush out a fox (see fox hunting), or for Tesco to eye up as potential superstore sites. Rumours that the EU was planning to turn all of our fields brown and fill them with Polish immigrants were recently found to be untrue and possibly due to Daily Mail columnist Richard Littlejohn drinking too much coffee and then randomly hitting his computer keyboard with his car keys.

  GUY FAWKES NIGHT

  This jolly annual celebration of putting Catholics to death takes place on the 5 November each year, marking the foiling of a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1605. The plotters, for whom Fawkes was the explosives expert, planned to kill King James I by igniting gunpowder under the House of Lords at the state opening of Parliament. The gang was caught in the nick of time and then tortured before being tried and then hung, drawn and quartered. Children at school are taught a rhyme that implores them to ‘remember, remember the fifth of November’, though most schools don’t carry on to the verse that talks about setting fire to the Pope after first choking him. An effigy of Fawkes is usually burnt atop a bonfire (the night is often called Bonfire Night), though anything from an effigy of the Pope to contemporary political figures is seen as acceptable in some parts of the UK. Fireworks are also let off for Guy Fawkes Night and these are traditionally ignited at 3 am on a council estate about three days before the big day.

  H

  HACKNEY CARRIAGE

  These icons of the British taxi trade are mostly associated with London, but the black cab, as the design is sometimes generically referred to, is also used in other major cities in the UK. Since the advent of advertising on taxis, black cabs are not always black any more and the shape is changing as new designs come in, but the basic model is what makes them so well recognised across the world. They have a high roof and usually have space for five passengers, with three seats across the back and two pull-down seats that have their back to the driver. They are famed for being able to turn in the tightest of situations and are favoured by private enthusiasts as well as cab drivers; Prince Philip and Stephen Fry are both reported to be owners. In Britain, the Hackney carriage has the right of way over all other forms of transport, including cyclists, police cars, mothers pushing prams and old ladies on mobility scooters. A Hackney carriage driver will legally invoke his right of way by leaning out of the window and shouting ‘Getofftheroadyoufuckingidiot’, which is a traditional phrase thought to date back to the days when the Hackney carriage was a carriage pulled by a horse.

  HAGGIS

  This mixture of sheep innards, boiled up in the animal’s stomach with onion, oats, spices and herbs, is the dish that Scotland is most famous for. It is the subject of a famous poem by Robert Burns (see burns, robert) and is served as the centrepiece of Burns’ Night with a portion of ‘neeps and tatties’, which is mashed swede and potatoes. Naturally, the offal-based treat is also available deep-fried in Scotland’s many chip shops and is just the kind of thing to settle your stomach after a night out on the booze. The strange shape and texture of the haggis has lead to much hoaxing over the years, with gullible tourists often being tricked into believing that the haggis is a wild animal that is hunted in the Highlands. The haggis is also possibly the strangest food to have been mimicked in a vegetarian version, which is made by famed haggis manufacturer MacSween. A spokesmen for MacSween commented that it would be an ‘offal shame’ if veggies didn’t get to eat haggis on Burns’ Night, or at least that is what I hope they would say. It is, after all, always a shame to miss out on such a fine opportunity for a pun: something that we Brits are renowned for. The origins of the name and recipe of haggis are somewhat of a mystery, with speculation placing its origins as far apart as Iceland (the country, not the supermarket of the same name) and Rome.

  HALF DAY CLOSING

  Almost unthinkable today in our modern 24/7 cities, the tradition of half day closing is still adhered to in some smaller towns and villages. Usually falling on a Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday, half day closing traditionally served to provide shopkeepers and shop workers with a break to compensate for working at the weekend. That this tradition still continues in a random assortment of locations is often of huge confusion to tourists, who turn up at 2.30 pm on a Thursday to buy some bread and are met with a ghost town. The towns and villages that still have half day closing are usually those where witchcraft and ritual sacrifice are still rife, with the half day being used to complete tasks associated with these practices, such as rounding up virgins and sharpening knives.

  HARRODS

  Founded in 1834, Harrods has risen from humble shop to major tourist attraction, with a trip to the enormous department store being right up there with a visit to Buckingham Palace or a ride on the London Eye for visitors to London. Acquired by the outspoken Mohammed Al Fayed in 1985, the store and its owner have seldom been out of the news since, especially since the death of Al Fayed’s son alongside Princess Diana (see princess diana) in Paris in 1997. These deaths inspired Al Fayed to install what is perhaps the world’s tackiest memorial, which can be winced at from outer space. Harrods is most celebrated for its luxury goods and has become a desirable brand in its own right, with a Harrods carrier bag inferring that its owner may well be worth mugging, though nine times out of ten robbers will find that their victim is simply someone from the provinces who just bought a pair of socks to get a Harrods carrier bag.

  HARRIS TWEED

  You may think that the islanders of Harris, Uist, Barra and Lewis are taking the piss with the cost of their unique fabric, which is made from the wool of local sheep and finished by hand in the islanders’ homes. But you should be grateful, as the islanders used to give the piss as well, with Harris Tweed previously being softened by a good soaking in local urine. The cloth is still favoured by the horsey set and the landed gentry, but its popularity in a previous era meant that the upper crust smelled of stale urine on a damp morning. Urine may no longer be a part of the process, but the cloth is still made using traditional craft methods on the Scottish islands, which sit between the Highlands in the Outer Hebrides. ‘Tweedy’ is still used
to denote someone who is a little staid, stuck up and of the upper class, though Girls Aloud singer Cheryl Tweedy is none of the above. ‘Tweed’ is also the name of a perfume by Lentheric, usually brought by middle-aged salesmen for their disappointed mistresses. They would probably be more disappointed to receive Tramp, made by the same manufacturer. Nothing says ‘I can’t decide whether you smell like a homeless person or simply remind me of a whore’ than a gift of Tramp.

  HAVING A GO

  The spirit of amateurism is alive inside most Britons, meaning we are willing to have a go at things even if we turn out to not be very good at them. Hence our joy in watching Eddie ‘The Eagle’ Edwards and his exploits in the world of ski-jumping as well as Boris Johnson and his efforts in forming a sentence without offending one or other section of the populace. But the term also refers to our intervention in matters of law and order, with the ‘have-a-go hero’ moniker often used to refer to extremely dead members of the public who decided to tackle masked gunmen raiding an armoured security van. Those who survive the having-a-go process are lauded in the press, with one recent example being Glaswegian baggage handler John Smeaton, who gave a sound thumping to a burning terrorist who had tried to blow up Glasgow Airport. ‘If you come to Glasgow we’ll set about you,’ said Smeaton to the terrorists, repeating what had been the city’s official tourist slogan until 1986.