On Being English Sunday July 17, 2005
I dislike xenophobia and generally speaking, don’t see anything especially great about Britain – which is, like it or not, normally construed in terms of English rather than Scottish, Welsh or Irish cultures. OK, we used to control 2/3 of the world, despite the extraordinary discrepancy between that fact and the tiny size of our little Atlantic island, and although we’re not a super-power we maintain a strong position in global politics and economics. But we have crap weather, over-priced consumer goods, a crap railway network and NHS, football hooligans and a growing preponderance of ‘chav’ culture, and a self-deprecating psyche content with mediocrity and endless cups of tea. Given the choice I’d rather live in Spain, France, or sunny California – somewhere near the mountains. Many places in fact, I would prefer to the cloudy UK.
But humour? Ah, yes. Nothing like British humour. Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, Not The Nine O’Clock News, Have I Got News For You, Billy Connolly, The Office, Two Pints Of Lager & A Packet Of Crisps, Paul Merton…..
British humour rocks. At its quintessential best it’s dry, knowing, ironic, self-deprecating in the best possible way, wacky, surreal, and eccentric.
What can I say? This was described as “An elaborate theatrical feast as two waiters try to serve lunch to a solitary diner, but are thwarted by flies in the soup, exploding crab, runaway puddings and a table that walks off in disgust”. I must admit, it was the table that convinced me: I want to see that, I thought, yay! And despite the grey skies, it didn’t rain.
I don’t doubt British history distils into something quite interesting: Celts, Roman invasions, wars with the French, Kings and Queens coming and going, dominating 2/3 of the world in the British Empire, economic and military power despite the island’s tiny size, two World Wars, two decades of Irish terrorism, one of the greatest intellectual traditions in the world (Oxford, Cambridge, Shakespeare, Newton etc etc), world famous public broadcasting – the BBC – and a capital city that even for me, a Brit, is an astonishingly rich cultural powerhouse. In one of Bill Bryson’s lovely books, he states that in the small town where was living (I think it was in Yorkshire) there was more heritage than in the entire US.
The downside, and what I dislike about the UK (as well as the crappy weather), is the conservatism and class consciousness. And having so much history is sometimes a dead weight.
Beyond that, you start considering ‘psyche’ which is more difficult to perceive and define. Personally, I think the support the US got with 9/11 was a significant aspect of the British psyche – beyond all the politics. I think we have an innate sense of outrage against injustice and bullshit, hence the English expression “it’s just not cricket” – meaning, you are not playing by the rules. Thus, you don’t go fucking with people’s lives with a couple of jet liners. It’s just not cricket. I certainly felt that way, and cried when I saw it like thousands of other people, almost as if it had happened in the UK. One of the loveliest remarks I read concerning the recent terrorist atrocity in the UK was “This is London. We’ve dealt with people like you before”. Elegant, restrained, powerful: the impact comes not from what you say, but from what you don’t say. As philosopher Michel Foucault once remarked, the greatest power is invisible.
In what sense is cricket peculiarly or archetypally British? It’s dignified and polite. There’s plenty of athletic and competitive passion there, but it’s restrained and formalised. The choreography is nice to watch – white against quintessential green – although I would, admittedly, get bored with an entire match. There are the same qualities with Wimbledon, even more so because you get to see and relate to individual players and their emotional battles on the court. I enjoy it and generally don’t get bored with it, certainly with the top ranking players. It’s a kind of athletic ballet, formalised again, with a constant tension between passion and disciplined and vigorous action. It’s an English ritual like strawberries and cream, a world-class sporting event, and it’s great. Maybe I’ll get there one day. For now though here’s a summer scene from a local playing field, with a team and wooden bats rather than individuals with racquets. And it didn’t rain.
— Nathan Smith · Jul 20, 06:57 PM · §
— James Lomax · Nov 4, 03:32 PM · §