The summer months do odd things to us Britons, bringing out our pagan past and our desire to mark the season with odd festivals, strange sporting events and suicidal chases after things we could quite easily buy at Tesco (or Waitrose at the very least). The end of spring and approach of summer sees grown adults, some with no known history of mental impairment, taking part in shin-kicking contests, toe-wrestling bouts and the annual cheese rolling at Cooper’s Hill in the Cotswolds. In this contest a whole Double Gloucester cheese is released to bounce its way down the hill, with actual human bipeds following it after a one-second gap. As the cheese reaches terminal velocity those following smash into each other, into the hillside and into the fence at the bottom of the hill. Broken limbs are usual. Catching the cheese is not. All of this adds to the world’s view of us as lovable eccentrics (see eccentricity), though few are willing to acknowledge our prowess in this kind of sporting pursuit, which is why they are objecting to shin-kicking and racing with a burning barrel of tar on your back being included in the 2012 London Olympics.
Yes, we do eat chips with almost everything in the UK, but there is a special place in our heart for the takeaway tradition of smothering the delicious golden fingers of potato in a variety of toppings. The law of the chip shop says that only four are acceptable: these are gravy, curry, peas, or beans. Of course, the peas must be mushy and the beans must be of the baked variety, though curry and gravy allow for more vagaries. Should it be thick? Should it be runny? Should the curry be a strange green colour and have raisins in it? Probably not. Some modernists seem to believe that cheese is also an acceptable topping, but these people are just wrong, sick even. If you are one of them please seek help. These wonderful meals should always be eaten from a polystyrene tray while walking, using a wooden fork that is far too small to be of any practical use and offering the very real risk of planting a two-inch splinter in your tongue.
The quintessential sound of morning in a British village is the peal of the church bells, calling worshippers to prayer, annoying shift workers and those with a hangover equally. The patterns of ringing do not vary much, becoming such a part of our national soundtrack that we will notice any irregularity. The language of the bells was utilised in civil defence plans during World War II, with different tolls meaning that the Germans had landed. This can be seen in effect in the 1942 film classic Went the Day Well, where rural villagers are inspired to a spiffingly jolly killing spree when Nazi infiltrators choose to invade their village and their village alone. The extended ringing of bells is mostly associated with the end of a wedding, which really is the last thing you need if you are still suffering the effects of your stag night.
Widely regarded as one of Britain’s greatest leaders and often pictured on a Union Flag background giving his distinctive two-fingered salute, Winston Churchill has become the standard by which other Prime Ministers are measured. Churchill is famed for his leading of the UK through most of World War II, serving as Prime Minister of an all-party group from 1940-1945, with a second term as Conservative Prime Minister from 1951-1955. Often seen with cigar in hand, it was Churchill’s skills in speechmaking and in soundbites that kept British spirits high during the war years (see blitz spirit). Turning adversity to strength, his speeches such as his pre-Battle of Britain one which included the line ‘We shall fight them on the beaches’ are still remembered to this day by many. Chamberlain saying ‘Oops, this has all gone a bit tits up’ may not have had the same rallying effect. Sadly, most school children now think Churchill is ‘that dog in the insurance adverts, innit’. There is some irony in this, as Churchill suffered from depression, a condition he referred to as his ‘black dog’. If he had known his memory was to be overshadowed by an animated nodding bulldog then his black dog may have come visiting more often.
For many years this was the default setting with which all Britons were born; the Church of England is the religion for people who don’t really do religion. Often shortened to C of E to do away with the overly religious overtones of the word ‘church’, it is the religion you can enjoy between worships without ruining your agnosticism. Mostly there for christenings, weddings and funerals, your C of E vicar is always up for attendance at village fêtes, tea dances or jumble sales (see jumble sales). A surprising 37.3 million of us identified ourselves as Christian in the 2001 census of England and Wales, vastly outnumbering the 3.7 million who claim to have no religion and the 390,000 who adhere to the Jedi faith. Hopefully, state-funded Jedi faith schools should be introduced within the next decade.
With Britain’s wealth of orchards it is no surprise that we soon worked out how to turn apples into a passable alcoholic drink, which has kept tramps, teenagers and farmers topped up since time immemorial. Premium ciders enjoy massive sales, but the real stuff comes from the West Country, where everyone talks, drinks and sings like The Wurzels. Popular brands have fantastic names like Cripple Cock, with a slippery slope of rough cider and scrumpy available to explore in rural boozers. One of the best things about cider is that many Americans use the same name for what is simply apple juice. So when a coach party stumble across a cider outlet in Bristol they are always tempted to try the local beverage, not realising that they are imbibing an 8 per cent brew that will have them under the table. This is the best time to tell them about the ‘tradition’ of visitors buying a round for the whole pub.
With its name deriving from the Latin for ‘to lose documents and mislay CDs full of data’, the Civil Service is the backbone of British bureaucracy. Its stated purpose is to retain as much of your money as possible while also making it nigh on impossible for you to claim any of it back in times of need. The Civil Service includes the Government departments that deal with taxation, social security and prisons, though its name is most often linked with the administration and running of the Government itself, with Whitehall’s civil servants being some of the most powerful employees in the country. Despite having the word ‘civil’ in its title, the Civil Service does not insist on civility being a requirement of its staff when recruiting. In a 2002 survey only 14 per cent of civil servants surveyed identified as mildly to reasonably civil, whereas 45 per cent responded by simply hanging up the phone after leaving those asking the question on hold for 20 minutes.
Foreign visitors are amazed by it, politicians claim it no longer exists and the rest of us struggle to work out where we belong within it. The class system in Britain is second only to the Indian caste system in terms of rigidity and complexity. Our place of birth, parent’s jobs, income, accent and even what we call our evening meal (see tea as a meal) can dictate our place on the class scale, which can then affect education, career and even marriage. Within the confines of working, middle and upper class there