Since the posting of last week’s Baker Street column, in which I pointed out that the English are the worst bunch of people on the planet and that William Shakespeare wore clown shoes, I have been inundated with hate mail and threats from across the Atlantic. While it’s true I said England has contributed nothing of value to humankind other than some good pop music, can’t the English be happy that I said they have some good pop music?
I’ve been called a git, a wanker, a prat, a nancy, a wally, a tosser, a twat, and a knob by my parents since I was born, which has made me overly sensitive to criticism. Fortunately, the English are noted for being polite, so their hate mail usually starts with a compliment like, “I say, chap, bloody good show giving us what-for last week,” before moving on to point out the inadequacies in my story.
For example, I apparently neglected to give credit to England for producing some noteworthy film actors over the years. Sir Laurence Olivier was mentioned, as was Sir Ralph Richardson. Dame Judi Dench. Sir Mick Jagger, for his role in Freejack (1992). Dame Kate Beckinsale, whom I just knighted myself so we can pretty up the images around here.
Speaking of girls from England called Kate, Ms. Middleton seems to have won approval from my female friends (which are legion, as you suspected).