Mysteries of Britain, Part I

Even though I've lived in MOE for more than 3 years now, there are still some things about the culture I just don't understand. I encountered one today: It's raining out, and no one has an umbrella. Some people (mostly old men trying to cover their bald patches) were wearing hats, one or two had hoodies up, but no one I saw had a brolly.

Why? Do people here like getting wet? Are they genetically altered to have skin and hair on which the raindrops bead? Mr. W says it's about "toughness." Brits are tougher than we Yanks are. I say they're just wetter than we are. Anyone care to enlighten me on when it's appropriate to use protection when it's raining out?

Thanks in advance,
Ignorant in Islington

More Things I Like, Things I Don't Like

Things I like: Trains.

These past two weekends, I've ridden my bicycle to Cambridge and ridden a train back, and taken a train to Stevenage for a running race and come back. In both cases, my wait for a train was minimal and travel time was tolerable. Train service is frequent and more often reliable than unreliable. You can get to more than 2,500 destinations by train. Now if you ask a Briton, it's gone downhill since Margaret Thatcher reorganized it. And having been on Swiss trains recently, I can say that they appear to make more allowances for bicycles than British trains do. But still, the rail service makes car ownership optional for a larger share of the population than the United States.

Things I don't like: Northern accents.

I shouldn't make fun of the way people talk, but there is something in the northern English accent that rubs me wrong. I love a broad Scottish brogue and a Welsh lilt, but strong Yorkshire and Liverpudlian accents are at times almost incomprehensible to me. The TV serial Hollyoaks best exemplifies the accents I hate. See if you don't want to punch your computer screen when you click through to this Hollyoaks clip for which embedding has been disabled.

Things I Like; Things I Don't Like

The stamp on my UK visa tells me I entered this country on a permanent basis Jan. 21, 2006. Three years (or thereabouts) gives me some perspective on life here. It's not long enough to be cynical ... OK, it's long enough to be cynical about some aspects of life here ... but long enough to have developed some clear likes and dislikes. Or at least things we enjoy and things we find peculiar. So to celebrate the three-year anniversary, I thought I'd do a series of posts on things I really like and things I really don't like (Mrs. Werbenmanjensen is free to join in as she wishes).

A thing I like:

Beer.

It is fortunate that I live in a land with so many good beers. It is unfortunate that I am unable to try each and every one of them. So my advice to those who ask me what they ought to drink when visiting Britain is to tell them to walk into the nearest pub, look for the long handles on the bar and order what looks interesting from the selection of badges on those handles. Those are the cask ales, pumped by hand from a cellar to your pint glass. While over time they may have gone from being made by specialist brewers to being a brand owned by a major conglomerate, they are beers you won't get in any other country--bitters, porters and the like. Across the rest of the bar you may see familiar names--Guinness, Kronenbourg, Carling, even Budweiser and Coors. But you can get those at any old bar. I like to try something I haven't drunk before.

A thing I don't like:

The obsession with the carbon cost of heating a kettle of water for tea.

This is a comparison you'll find in many contexts. This morning, the BBC reported that two Google searches consume the same amount of energy as boiling a kettle of water (never mind the auto trips to the library averted by Google searching). A major train operator advertises that its trains are so energy efficient that they actually make up for millions of boiling kettles (the first of four on this clip):




Look, almost every action causes carbon dioxide to be released into the atmosphere. If we're going to drink tea, it will require energy, and until our energy sources are 100% sustainable, that energy consumption will result in carbon emissions--no matter if we heat our water in kettle, on a stove, or in an animal skin over a wood fire. If you don't want your beverage to have a carbon impact, drink water. From a stream.

This obsession wouldn't be so bad if it weren't trivial in comparison to some of the choices we make in our lifestyle, living accommodations, residence, commute, and leisure travel that release far more than the 14 grams of carbon that a kettle does. But we don't like the thought of giving up our houses, yards, automobiles, and sunny holidays, so we obsess about tea kettles.

Death Of An English Folk Tradition

Without comment, I'll note this following article about the feared demise of Morris Dancing:

The numbers of people participating in the traditional British folk dance are dwindling whilst the age of the dancers is increasing, according to the Morris Ring, an association representing over 200 Morris troupes across Britain.
It is warning that "unless younger blood is recruited during the coming winter months, Morris dancing will soon become extinct".
Charlie Corcoran, Bagman of the Morris Ring, said: "There's a distinct possibility that in 20 years' time there will be nobody left.
"It worries me a great deal. Young people are just too embarrassed to take part.

Embarassing? I'll let the reader be the judge:

The PSA Tales

I might have mentioned in the past that public service advertisements are a bit different here, with a tendency to scare instead of persuade. Here are a couple more examples:



Dear Hollywood,

My film-going habits have changed in recent years not because I'm downloading pirated movies, but because I've grown weary of your constant recycling of superhero movies and remakes. I could tolerate this advert if it were simply on my television--that's what mute buttons are for. However, that I'm forced to sit through this advert in a cinema after I've paid £8 to get in is well beyond insulting. Knock it off.



Dear Department for Work and Pensions,

I doubt even 1 percent of this advert's viewers are benefit thieves. I would applaud your vigilance if I didn't know that this ad was instead aimed at me, the taxpayer, to try to persuade me that you're doing a good job at cracking down on benefit fraud. However, what this ad reveals to me is that the scale of the benefit fraud and the efforts to eliminate it are about equal. Not a good use of resources.

(This one is rather unpleasant.)


Dear Think! ad campaign,

This ad is just disgusting. You know what having this ad thrust in front of me during a quiet night's TV watching is like? Imagine me coming into your house at dinner time, and spitting on your plate. Yeah, it's like that. Please take it off.



Dear Countryside Access,
This one is still enjoyable after all this time. I could watch this one again and again. Thank you, Countryside Access, for coming up with a PSA that is charming and persuasive.

December Sunsetblogging

The sun sets way too early.


That's better ...


... because it's better to light a single snowman than curse the darkness.

We're in that part of the year again, when the sun doesn't rise until after 8 and sets before 4. It's nice to see the merchants lighting up our streets during the dark months.

An Extra Special Message From Steve Guttenberg

And while we're at it ....



And in other panto news, Huggy Bear is doing a Snow White panto show in Catford.

EDITED: Hat tip to Mrs. W's colleague who pointed this out to us.

Some Truths About Football

Since I had an earlier cranky post about football, I couldn't help but be blown away by the accuracy of the best-ever cultural analysis about the relative popularity of "soccer football" in Britain and "American football" in America over at The Septic's Companion, formerly known as the English2American dictionary.

Go buy his book, or at least a beer for him. Without knowing it, he's been a great contributor to our blog. Go Web2.0!

Gonna Lay Down My Sword And Shield

The United States has Veterans Day. Britain has Remembrance Day. Unlike the U.S. holiday, Remembrance Day is not a government holiday--everybody goes to work if it's a weekday. But it's in your face nonetheless in the form of plastic poppies growing like weeds on lapels and collars, purchased for the price of a chugger contribution to the Royal British Legion.

While watching football over the weekend, I noticed that no less than 100 percent of the studio commentators for one match were wearing plastic poppies. As an experiment, I just turned on BBC News 24 this moment, and both of the on-screen anchors were wearing plastic poppies. If you walk down a given city street this time of year, you will notice that at least half of the people you see are wearing the poppies. (The always clever Time Out London, in its "Lies To Tell Tourists" column a couple of years ago, urged Londoners to tell tourists that any person wearing a plastic poppy had actually killed a German in combat.)

But I won't.

I have the greatest respect for veterans and their sacrifices. I do like to know that people who come back from war with physical, psychological or emotional wounds are taken care of. I will give money to the cause. And I'm aware of the cultural significance of the Flandrian poppy in reference to the horror of World War I. But I won't wear the poppy. I guess I resent the overtones of it--the suggestion that if I don't wear the poppy I'm somehow disrespectful of veterans. And to me, the poppy remains a symbol of war, rather than the peace we should hope for. Give me a Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament peace symbol any day.

We're Number 18! We're Number 18!

Turns out our postcode is the 18th most-burgled in the UK.

Top that, Croydon!

Skyrockets In Flight

I've begun to hear fireworks at night again, which can only mean that we're getting close to Guy Fawkes Day, aka Bonfire Night, the night England celebrates pyrotechnics, or maybe it was to commemorate the Gunpowder Plot, or maybe it was to commemorate the failure of the Gunpowder Plot. Anyway ... fireworks have been purchased, and I believe we're in the midst of the first school holiday of the year, which means aimless youth are wandering about at night setting off fireworks.

Still, the volume of fireworks is probably insufficient for this guy:

Mervyn To Smitty: Thanks Kid. Here's A Bag Of Money.

The rapid devaluation of the pound to the dollar, and the fact that I'm paid largely in dollars, means that I've experienced a 25 percent raise in recent months. Thanks, Mervyn King!

Top Five Lies About Soccer, er, Football

I love the beautiful game. I'll sit down and watch the British football equivalent of a Single-A baseball game if it's on, just because. But there are some things that you'll hear about the game that are just not true.

1. English people never call it soccer. This is just a flat-out lie. On Britain's leading sports channel, I just finished watching a show called "Soccer AM." I am now watching a show called "Soccer Saturday." English people can stuff it if they sneer at me for call it soccer. Get your story straight. It's either "football" always, or it's not.

2. Soccer is a non-contact sport. This is a lie that many American soccerphiles will tell you to promote the sport among kids. Hossam Ghaly's teeth will disagree. So will Petr Cech's head.

3. Soccer players run the whole game. Yeah, if they're 5 years old and the game is aimed at getting kids tired out so they'll take a nap on a Saturday afternoon. When players are substituted in certain matches, Britain's leading sports channel likes to pop up with a figure of how much the substituted player has run in that match. I've seen figures as high as 15 kilometers. Memo to Sky Sports: 15 kilometers is 37 and a half laps of the stadium. I'm not buying it, especially when I see guys in the 78th minute doing a lot of standing, walking and slow jogging.

4. There's no more hooliganism in soccer. German authorities might disagree. So might the Manchester police. Football fans have to be separated. Rugby fans don't. 'Nuff said.

5. Soccer songs and chants are sporty and inspirational. I'll let you be the judge of that. It appears that Atletico Madrid fans agree with me.

The Chrysalis Cracks. A Londoner Emerges.

My palate is far too relaxed and my diphthongs too chewy to ever speak British English. I choke at the thought of pledging allegiance to a royal. When "God Save The Queen" plays, I hear "My Country 'Tis Of Thee." But I can feel like a Londoner nonetheless--because I can now navigate Soho's twisty passages and narrow streets without a copy of London A-Z.

The more astute of you may note, based on taglines from recent posts, that I could easily use the map function my iPhone. Yes, I could, which makes it easy to leave the A-Z behind. But twice this past weekend I found my way around Soho quite easily without ever having to check a map.

This is a major accomplishment for me.

I'm From The Government, And I'm Here To Help

Yesterday, as we were coming back through immigration, the gentleman reviewing our passports looked at the number of stamps we have and suggested, in a helpful way, that we register for the Home Office's IRIS Program--a biometric program to protect borders and keep us safe from terrorism, while of course guarding our confidentiality.

We know that the UK government has a sterling record on protecting personal data:

Personal data on every child in the country and national insurance numbers and bank account details of parents and carers claiming child benefit have gone missing after the government sent two password-protected CDs through the post.

And UK governments have never misused anti-terror powers before, have they?

Thousands of middle managers in local councils are being authorised to spy on people suspected of petty offences using powers designed to prevent crime and terrorism.
Even junior council officials are being allowed to initiate surveillance operations in what privacy campaigners likened to Eastern bloc police tactics.
The Home Office is expected to be urged by the Commons Home Affairs select committee to issue guidelines to councils on the type of operations in which surveillance can be used.
Amid increasing concern in Parliament that the UK is slowly becoming a surveillance society, the committee has looked at the operation of the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act (Ripa), which some MPs say is being misused to focus on petty crime rather than serious offending.

And of course, the UK government itself has never used anti-terror powers to resolve a contract dispute, have they?

Iceland's authorities last night appeared close to agreeing a repayment package to help cover the losses of British savers with deposits in Icesave, the UK operation of one of the country's stricken banks.
Officials from the Treasury, Bank of England and FSA flew back from Reykjavik yesterday having made "significant progress" in talks with banks and government officials aimed at securing a rapid payout for British depositors.
However, the deal does not yet include the billions of pounds invested by councils, charities and other public bodies.
The Icelandic government took control of three of the country's largest banks last week and froze deposits, including an estimated £4.5bn from British savers.
The UK government has used anti-terror laws to seize an estimated £4bn in Icelandic resources, and ministers said yesterday these will not be released until a deal has been struck.

We of course politely told the immigration drone we'd think about it, but I think I'll view standing in queues as a minor inconvenience compared to the major inconvenience of losing my personal freedom.

Rotten Butter

Your eyes don't deceive you: That is John "Johnny Rotten" Lydon, the onetime frontman for the Sex Pistols, doing adverts for butter.

It's probably important to note that Johnny earned his "Rotten" moniker in the '70s because of his personal hygiene.

Oh, wait, here's a video!



(Johnny Rotten and Morris dancers? Heavens!)

That's OK, though: The folks from Madness are also doing food advertisements:



It's no "Baggy Trousers":

I Predict A Riot

I've written before of our ubiquitous bookies in the UK. You may know that they'll offer a wager on almost anything: Sporting events, elections, natural disasters. Perhaps it's an outgrowth of the kind of behavior that goes on at the Lloyd's of London insurance market, with less sophisticated financial instruments (e.g. you're the guy holding the bag if you lose your gamble, instead of your reinsurer). Mrs. Werbenmanjensen has emailed this morning to tell me that one of our fine bookies, Paddy Power, is offering odds on riots in several international cities related to economic turmoil.

New York, at 9-4, and Washington, at 10-3, are suckers' bets, in my opinion. The terms of the wager are that "riots must be confirmed by that countries ruling government as being due to motivated by economic circumstances." The Bush administration would just call them looters. It's happened before, after all. My money would be on Paris, at 3-1. But I'd also like to know where the Kaiser Chiefs are putting their money:

Familiarity Breeds Contempt, Part 2

Forgot to mention:

Don't get all snarky if I refer to the game you call "football" as "soccer." You also call it "soccer." I am now watching a TV show on a sports channel called "Soccer a.m."

Familiarity Breeds Contempt

I know that's the adage, and it's true in my case, at least lately. I've been struggling on occasion in my relations with British people, and it's an attitude problem. I think it's that I've wearied a bit with the "first and best" attitude held by some when it comes to their contact with Americans.

I can trace my attitude change to an incident at a party held by a colleague of Mrs. Werbenmanjensen a month or so ago, when I was about to get the "why-do-you-call-it-the-World-Series-when-it's-only-teams-from-America?" lecture, as if this had never occurred to me nor had anybody ever mentioned it to me. I finally had to ask him if an English cricketer would rather win the World Cup, a contest among all the cricketing nations of the world, or The Ashes, a contest with just one other country (PS: It's The Ashes). He didn't think that a fair comparison, but he did point out in the same vein that the Six Nations is technically only a contest between four nations.

This conversation was the first of several incidents I've found at least a little irritating lately. Perhaps the whole thing was accelerated during the Olympics period when the British press was picking a fight over medal tallies. (No, it wasn't just so Americans look good this Olympiad. We've always done it that way. It's you who choose to denigrate silver and bronze by failing to count them.)

So to any native who might be reading this: I've lived here two and a half years. So please understand:

1. The "British" Open was the first of the major golf championships in the world and should therefore be called "the Open Championship." I know this, so please don't lecture me about it.
1a. No, really, Americans don't take the Ryder Cup that seriously, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise. Golf ain't a team sport.
2. There are various claims about inventions attributed to Americans that may have been British. History is written by the winners.
2a. We could get into a long debate about who exactly invented the first computer. Suffice it to say: IBM and Apple are not British companies.
2b. You are way ahead of the US when it comes to broadband, digital television innovation and mobile phones. I said it. Leave me alone.
3. You spell honor with a "u", check with a "que" and summarize with an "s". I work for Americans. Therefore it would cause some difficulty if I got in the practise of spelling like you.
4. (Courtesy of Mrs. W) When I say things like "VY-ta-min D" there's no point in you saying back to me "VIT-a-min D." I know we pronounce it differently. I'm not going to change, and neither are you.
5. I'm not saying things like "brilliant" and "bugger all" to make fun of you. It's things I've actually picked up.
6. "High-fives" are not something British people do or are that comfortable with. But I'm going to do them when I'm excited anyway.

A Letter From Steve Guttenberg

Hello Friends,

Here I am trying on my pantomime costume, whilst making the most of the LA sunshine, before I pack my bags and head for Bromley this Christmas. I'm over the moon about making my UK pantomime debut as Baron Hard-up in the magical Cindarella.

Working with rogues during my Police Academy days should, I hope, be a fine workout for my battles with the Ugly Sisters; but I'm sure I can count on your help to boo them off! The song and dance routines will be awesome--something I'm really going to enjoy after taking part on America's top-rated show Dancing With The Stars. I am also delighted to announce that the Absolutely Fabulous Helen Lederer will be joining me as Fairy Godmother to add a sprinkling of comedy magic to the fun.

It's going to be a truly wonderful Chrismas for me in the UK, so make sure you join me for the biggest and funniest traditional pantomime around and book your ticket today.

See you soon!

Steve

Because you want to: Who holds back the elec-tric car? Who made Steve Guttenberg a star?

(Hat tip to Annie Mole, whose Twitter feed alerted me to this show.)