We're British, Innit

by Iain Aitch

  RAIN

  If you can see the Pennines it is going to rain, if you can’t it is already raining. So goes the expression about the dampness of climate in the North West of England, though this constant expectation of rain exists in most of the UK. ‘Looks like rain’ is a constant refrain that can be heard as neighbours pass in the street or strangers converse in bus queues (those outside London, obviously. No one talks to strangers in London). Brits may moan about the rain, but we would not have it any other way and we fret if more than a week passes without a downpour. This concern extends to the summer months, when the ancient Pagan festival of Wimbledon (see wimbledon) is held to mark the start of the summer and to pray for rain. Special rain dancers, called ‘tennis professionals’ are imported from around the world for this festival, to ensure rainfall and bring about a drought-free summer.

  RAMBLING

  A riot of kagouls, Thermos flasks, blankets and Ordnance Survey maps, this weekend pastime is one of Britain’s favourite ways to pretend to be relaxed while actually making quite hard work of it. We don’t do lying down and doing nothing very well (see deckchairs), as we don’t want anyone to think we are Spanish or something. So our enjoyment of our natural environment usually involves a ten-mile hike across a landscape filled with suspicious looking barrels of chemicals, rusting mantraps and fields containing agitated bulls. Despite its rather sedate reputation, rambling has a radical past, with the right to traverse rights of way and roam around our country being won by a long history of civil disobedience and campaigning.

  READERS’ WIVES

  It may go against one of the Ten Commandments, but British men love nothing more than to covet another man’s wife, especially on a Saturday morning when their own wife has gone out shopping. Ideally the wife in question should be inexpertly photographed on a patterned draylon sofa, in a room where the chintzy curtains are firmly drawn shut. It is preferable that flash photography be used, as this brings out a special shade of whiteness on areas of the wife that are rarely exposed to the sun. The selection of pornographic magazines that specialise in or include sections labelled Reader’s Wives have recently proved to be quietly progressive in their outlook, meaning that a woman now need not actually be married to her partner for images of her bent over the ironing board to be included on their glossy pages. Similarly, there has been increased inclusion of a wider variety of interior design styles, so that men that hanker after seeing a slightly overweight Norfolk florist next to some half-constructed Ikea shelving are well catered for.

  RED ARROWS

  This crack team of stunt-flying RAF pilots have been a celebrated part of British life since 1965, appearing at special events and in fly-pasts, often trailing red, white and blue smoke. Their special skill lies in not crashing into each other while doing ridiculously difficult manoeuvres at high speeds, though, obviously, the subliminal thrill for those watching is the possibility that all nine of the distinctive Hawk aircraft might collide in a spectacular fireball somewhere over a car boot sale in Swansea. The pilots are all highly experienced and must have frontline experience, though the combat effectiveness of a group of highly visible aircraft trailing brightly coloured smoke has yet to be tested in a hostile situation. Leaked Ministry of Defence documents do suggest that deployment in a war may include the skywriting of disparaging messages and even the sky doodling of giant genitalia over enemy lines.

  RHUBARB

  The mildly poisonous pink rhubarb stems are to be found in many of our gardens and have also inspired one of our strangest fruit-growing practices: that of forcing rhubarb, which is associated mostly with Yorkshire. The fruit is grown in heated dark sheds, and the stems reach up for light above which makes for a more delicate flavour. Rhubarb and custard can be enjoyed as a dessert (see pudding) or as a classic boiled sweet, and these red and yellow jewels are just one of the royal family of British confectionary, which includes sherbet lemons, kola cubes, wine gums and sherbet pips. The combination also gave its name to a classic BBC teatime cartoon, though Custard the Cat was actually rhubarb coloured, which twisted the minds of a generation and is possibly one major factor in the disintegration of society as we know it. Rhubarb crumble and custard is the dessert that 60 per cent of British men said they would like Nigella Lawson to cook for them if she was to invite them round for dinner. The other 40 per cent said that they would probably be too busy staring at her breasts to eat anything at all.

  RICHARD, CLIFF

  While America got Elvis Presley for their rock ’n’ roll icon, Britain landed Cliff Richard. Attitude, sex and drugs versus being polite, going to church and remaining celibate. We did love and cherish Cliff for many years. We enjoyed Living Doll, Bachelor Boy, Summer Holiday (okay, okay, Melvyn Hayes’ character was really irritating in that film) which became a perennial favourite and even Devil Woman wasn’t bad. Though most of us did snigger quietly at Wired for Sound, Cliff's paean to the Walkman. But then came the Christmas singles, the singing at Wimbledon (see wimbledon) and more bloody Christmas singles. The Peter Pan of pop became the pious pest and suddenly only 50-year-old women with an obsessive zeal for all things Cliff could bear his presence on radio, though that has not stopped him reaching the top ten.

  RICH TEA BISCUITS

  Previously advertised with the slogan ‘A drink’s too wet without one’, these baked reminders of austerity enjoy a popularity that is far more about culture than taste. The adverts in question almost berated us for the sheer decadence of enjoying a simple cup of tea, as if the excess wetness may make us lose all sense of decorum. No, far better to abate the wetness with a cardboardy, sugary snack. Actually, take two. Spoil yourself. Just not too much. Don’t you know there’s a war on? At least there was until quite recently, you know. Rich Teas should always be dunked in tea, no matter what anyone says about manners. Just be careful to dip for just the right amount of time or you will be engaged in that very British pastime of fishing fast-disintegrating bits of biscuit from your cuppa with a teaspoon.

  ROAST BEEF

  Historians are not entirely sure when this became our national dish, but we have been known as consumers of beef since the Middle Ages, especially by the French, who often refer to Brits as Les Rosbifs. Usually served with Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes, the Sunday tradition of a roast dinner is one way of ensuring that we consume enough saturated fat over the course of the week (see suet). In times of war and poverty this will have been the one meal that Brits would endeavour to be able to serve meat at. Traditionally, the roast beef joint should be rested for half an hour after it is taken out of the oven. This has no culinary benefit, it is simply how late most husbands are coming back from enjoying the Sunday lunchtime drink in the local pub or a round of golf.

  ROBIN HOOD

  Whether he was real, fictional or a folkloric amalgamation of several characters, the legend of Robin Hood has endured, having lasted since the early thirteenth century and has inspired many a television series. Thought to have been a nobleman who lost his land, Robin Hood was sworn enemy of both the Sheriff of Nottingham and ‘King’ John, though the persisting image of him is simply as a highly moral thief who took from the rich and gave to the poor. He is said to have hung around with his ‘merry’ men, though it is uncertain whether this meant they were a cheery bunch, a bit drunk or the UK’s first all gay outlaw group. Hood is always cast as a sexy do-gooder in films and on television, though it is believed that his relationship with his supposed sidekick was not always as it is portrayed. Hood’s close companion Little John is said to have been a Ye Daily Mail columnist who wanted to repatriate Friar Tuck to Eastern Europe and who regularly berated the liberal Hood for what he termed ‘ye political correctness that hath gone mad’.

  ROBINS

  Though they stick around all year, these bright and cheery birds are the sweet-singing face of British wintertime, and especially Christmas. Often seen on feeders and on bird tables, our red-breasted feathered friends delight us in the morning with their song, pr
ovide a nutritious between- meals snack for cats and are said to be accurate weather forecasters. They are the subject of the poem ‘Who Killed Cock Robin’ as well as the popular song ‘When The Red Red Robin Comes Bob-Bob-Bobbing Along’, which Charlton Athletic Football Club play before their matches. Two other teams, Bristol City and Swindon Town, are nicknamed The Robins. Killing a robin is said to bring very bad luck for anyone who does so, though, to be fair, it is probably even worse luck for the robin in question.

  ROCK

  No, not the music or the stuff that our homes sit on, but the confectionary that everyone brings back from the seaside (see seaside). This is a uniquely British sweet treat, with the exact way that letters are put into the rock to spell out the name of the seaside resort you are in baffling even Stephen Hawking, despite his having repeatedly watched a documentary about it through the round window on Playschool. The brightly coloured sticks of rock come in a variety of flavours and colours and are almost entirely sugar, so you can feel tooth decay in action as you chew. Over the years, rude words and football team names have joined the names of towns as being popular things to spell out in sticks of rock. The same materials are also used to make dummies, imitation breakfasts and worryingly lifelike genitalia for hen parties to suck on as they storm along the seafront at Blackpool. Though rock has always been seen as slightly crude, as exemplified by the George Formby song ‘With My Little Stick of Blackpool Rock’, which was clearly about something that rhymes with rock, but not at all about cheap sugary confectionary.

  ROLLING HILLS

  Like our weather, the landscape of Britain is interesting and varied. Sure, we don’t have deserts, rainforests or seawater at a temperature that doesn’t induce immediate male shrinkage of up to 60 per cent, but we do have some of the most beautiful countryside on earth. Chief among these areas of beauty are the soft rolling hills and undulating scenery that carries on the whole way up the country. These areas are prime locations for holidaying in Britain and also attract huge numbers of walkers, many attempting to tick off walks and collections of hills as noted by writer Alfred Wainwright. The fell-walking enthusiast has given his name to the peaks of the Lake District and popularised the Pennine Way by offering to buy a pint for anyone who finishes the arduous walk in its entirety. This is said to have cost Wainwright £15,000 and probably would have bankrupted him had he not died in 1991 before the onset of the £4 pint.

  ROLLS ROYCE

  This name may be as famous for aircraft engines as cars, but it is the luxury vehicles manufactured by Rolls Royce that have become icons of Britishness. Never the most sleek, manoeuvrable or fuel-efficient, the Rolls Royce has long represented both aspiration and the brooding class war in Britain. It is the car that represents success and the car that is first to be torched in a riot situation. The crude, outsized nature of the cars makes them very visible signs of opulence, which is why they have traditionally appealed to working class celebrities for their bling factor. The famous silver lady that sits atop the distinctive radiator grill of each Rolls Royce is called the Spirit of Ecstasy, which is believed to be due to the fact that a stolen one of these hood ornaments will fetch exactly the amount needed to buy one ecstasy tablet.

  ROUNDS

  Drinking in rounds has long been a complex form of social bonding in the UK and is sometimes fingered as the root of our binge drinking culture (see binge drinking). Essentially a friendly way of making sure that everyone pays their way, round buying quickly turns into a race to keep up with whoever is the fastest drinker in the group. This is fine with a couple of friends, but go out in a group of eight and you know before the evening begins that you may be in trouble. It is deeply un-British to skip a round and the round buying cannot cease until everyone has taken his turn at paying. The information pack for new immigrants to the UK rightly reminds new arrivals that it is more socially acceptable to sleep with your neighbour’s wife than to not get your round in.

  ROYAL MAIL

  Postal workers deliver mail on behalf of the monarch, with each stamp bearing a likeness of the ruler of the day and post boxes carrying their initials. This regal connection allows postal delivery staff some royal privileges, notably the right to ignore the words ‘Do Not Bend’ and to jump over walls and walk across lawns where it will shorten their route. The ancient ways of postal delivery staff have been passed down from generation to generation and they have even developed their own highly secretive language, which uses patterns of elastic bands seemingly dropped randomly on the pavement and on doorsteps.

  ROYAUME UNI

  Britain may suffer from a confusing surfeit of names (see great britain), but there is only one foreign language label that we accept and that is for just one night per year. The Eurovision Song Contest is the excuse for this embracing of a French interpretation of United Kingdom, with its simply befuddling mixture of camp, camp and more camp, with some confusing traditional folk music thrown in to add to the unsettling topsy-turvy world it creates. The contest also represents just about as much European intermingling and co-operation as the average Brit is willing to accept. Eurovision has become a big party night in Britain, as we revel in our inability to recreate the glory of our big Eurovision wins. The two crowning glories were those by Bucks Fizz, who distracted the whole of Europe by tearing the skirts off the female members of the group, and Brotherhood of Man with their distinctly 1970s song about kissing three-year-olds.

  RUDE VEGETABLES

  In most countries, seasonal vegetables are celebrated in any number of meals or side dishes, but we in Britain have found a far greater use for the produce of our soil and our toil. Instead of cooking our vegetables we find the ones that look most like genitalia and then laugh and point. This tradition started on BBC show That’s Life, where Cyril Fletcher was employed as vegetable correspondent. His regular slot led to the successful spin-off show Cripes! That Looks Like a Willy, which was hosted by Fletcher and a young Angus Deayton. Fletcher left after the third series, when fruit that resembled breasts was introduced to the show. The traditional old comedian felt that this was beyond the pale and resigned. The show never aired again, but the tradition of rude vegetables lives on in the tabloid press, where a slow news week can be enlivened by a limp leek or deformed marrow.

  RUGBY

  Founded by an annoying idiot and in the spirit of cheating, the game of rugby has developed into two very different class-based strands since William Web Ellis first decided to pick up the ball and run with it during an early game of football at Rugby School in 1823. Can you imagine how irritating that was? ‘Oh, I am going to make my own rules up now, I am so great and I am doing my own thing.’ At most schools this would have earned Web Ellis a slap at least, but as this was a posh school they decided to celebrate his unorthodox approach by adopting it as part of their rules. The games of Rugby Union and Rugby League are similar in style, but the former is more associated with the public and grammar school system, whereas the latter was traditionally the professional version of the game, which was more popular in northern working class towns. The exception to this is in Wales, where Rugby Union is played by all classes, though both codes now have a professional element. All the countries that make up the UK play rugby to a high standard, with followers of the sport being well known for their love of excessive drinking and dangling their genitalia into each other’s beer.

  S

  ST ANDREW

  Born on the Sea of Galilee, the Apostle St Andrew was about as Scottish as a nice healthy salad and a fresh glass of carrot juice, though somehow his death became celebrated in both the Scottish flag and the Union Flag (see union flag). St Andrew is not even rumoured to have visited Scotland, though some relics of his unorthodox crucifixion cross are believed to have made it to the country around the tenth century. This X-shaped design became the basis for the St Andrew’s cross, which is what we see on the blue-and-white Scottish flag today and which makes up a part of the Union Flag. The fisherman, who is celebrated in Scotland each 30 Nove
mber, didn’t want to be crucified on the same shape of cross as his friend Jesus, no, he wanted to be different, so the distinctive shape was used for his execution. It is a good job that not everyone was as fussy, or the whole crucifixion industry would have been in chaos. After all, there are only so many shapes you can make from two pieces of wood and a handful of nails.

  ST DAVID

  The Welsh are rightly proud to have a patron saint who is a native son, with St David having been born in Pembrokeshire around the year 500. What is not so clear is what they think of him being a beer-denying, vegetarian hippie who preached that possessions were wrong and that men should pull ploughs rather than animals. St David was a teacher and preacher, who lived a frugal life alongside his monks; his most celebrated miracle was his supposed raising of a hill below his feet at Llanddewi Brefi, so that the audience could see him preaching more clearly. St David’s Day is celebrated on 1 March each year, which is said to be the day of his death. Welsh people wear either a daffodil (see daffodils) or a leek to mark the day, with the latter perhaps being a reminder that they are at least able to eat things other than just leeks now that he is not around to tell them off.