In England, and now in the south, where to be blunt and needlessly graphic everybody talks like they have a mouthful of plums washing out the taste of the Queen's special juices. Because of family we spent lots of summers up in Yorkshire - economically depressed, seedy, beautiful Scarborough, which I love and most of all I love the voices people speak with. Rich - the way they say 'fuck' with an 'o' - it's a lovely accent, especially if, like me, you were raised thinking all normal English people spoke like that and there wasn't some sort of stigma attached to not speaking like a twat with a mouthful of plums and royal cuntjuice. Raised thinking that the Bingo down on the south bay of Scarborough was the worst sign of social decline in the country.
I like England but there are so many ways it's a shithole. People put up with so much here that not even Belgians would dream of tolerating. The people are nice enough but I can't bear the way they TOLERATE. And lordy loo, it's expensive. Not Switzerland expensive. More like, way-more-expensive-than-it's-worth expensive. Anyways, there are many saving graces, of which one is the Indian food I am now going to go eat. Bless the Empire and the days when all the world was pink.