We’re British, Innit: An Irreverent A to Z of All Things British

No British community is complete without its corner shop. The shop need not actually be situated on the corner of a street to be considered a corner shop, but it should provide the focus for a community by providing overpriced items that you may have forgotten to pick up from the out-of-town superstore. Principal among these items are Pringles, bourbon biscuits, cigarettes, pornographic magazines and bizarre cakes you never see anywhere but in corner shops. Often run by Asian immigrants and their families, some corner shops are still known as ‘Paki shops’ by those locals whose knuckles drag along the pavement as they walk. This tendency towards casual racism and the linking of Asian families to these stores was acknowledged by British-Asian band Cornershop in their choice of name. The band’s tour rider consisted mostly of firelighters, out-of-date boxes of Milk Tray chocolates and Lemsip.

CORONATION STREET (#ulink_b4612b91-a2a6-5635-affb-3efb9160fed0)

This reality television series about life in northwest England has been running since 1960, giving the rest of Britain a fly-on-the-wall look at the small suburb of Weatherfield, where simple pleasures such as adultery, murder, abduction and having a pint in the Rovers keep the mostly working-class populace happy. Teacher Ken Barlow has been featured in the show since it began, but residents have come and gone over the years, with most getting to sample Betty’s hotpot in the pub and sex with Ken’s wife, Deirdre, though never at the same time (at least not yet). Most fans will have their own view of what constitutes classic ‘Corrie’, though many name motormouthed harridan Hilda Ogden as their favourite character.

CRICKET (#ulink_b4612b91-a2a6-5635-affb-3efb9160fed0)

The sound of leather on willow and the long shadows on county grounds are often cited as being two of the things that most evoke an image of Britishness, though cricket is really most popular in England, where the sport was invented. It is thought to have been around in the southeast since the fourteenth century in some form, though the development of the cricket tea and the five-day test came somewhat later on. The modern game was given nobility and popularity in the nineteenth century by cricketing legend W G Grace, who is as famous for his lustrous beard as for his skills as a batsman. In recent years the cricketing authorities have tried to sex the game up by introducing ever-shorter matches, but true fans enjoy the endurance and possible letdown of the five-day game, where hours of nothingness are interrupted by the most fleeting moments of action. Watching such a game is as close as the average British male ever comes to a state of Zen, though this is often aided by several pints of lager. Those unable to attend big games should listen in to Radio 4, where commentary on the game is squeezed in between audio clips of elderly men eating cakes.

CRICKET TEST (#ulink_b4612b91-a2a6-5635-affb-3efb9160fed0)

The cricket test, as opposed to test cricket, is derived from a question posed by former MP Norman Tebbit in a 1990 interview with the LA Times newspaper. He asked who second-generation immigrants would support in sporting competitions, stating his belief that many would ‘fail the cricket test’ by rooting for Pakistan, India or the West Indies over England. Tebbit saw this test as an indicator of how British immigrants and their descendants felt, despite the fact that most of Scotland would also root for any of those nations over the English team. Then there is the fact that those of Indian heritage will cheer for England when they play Pakistan, with those of Pakistani origin doing the same when England are up against India. Tebbit claimed vindication of his views when homegrown suicide bombers attacked the London transport system in July 2005, though it seems unlikely that a lengthy interrogation about their views on Freddie Flintoff would have stopped the terrorists from carrying out their mission.

CRUMPETS (#ulink_b4612b91-a2a6-5635-affb-3efb9160fed0)

As with most baked goods in the UK, there is an almighty bloody row just bubbling beneath the surface over the naming, appearance and origins of crumpets. Some say they are those things with holes in that look like a circular bath sponge, which you cover in butter, jam or something savoury, but others say that they are thin and floppy – more kitchen scourer than sponge. Those in the Midlands confuse matters further by calling anything vaguely crumpet- like, a pikelet. I mean, can’t we all just get along? Crumpet is also slang for an attractive woman, though the word is now more associated with the attractive older woman. The phrase ‘thinking-man’s crumpet’ is used to describe celebrities who have both brains and beauty, with Joan Bakewell being the most cited example. Generally, the term applies to a woman who looks like she may be willing to be a whore in the bedroom, an enthusiastic cook in the kitchen and a jolly useful addition to the pub quiz team.

CUCUMBER SANDWICHES (#ulink_b4612b91-a2a6-5635-affb-3efb9160fed0)

In aspirant middle-class circles, the cucumber sandwich is seen as the bread-based snack to be seen with when sipping afternoon tea on the lawn. It is a little known fact that the invention of this sandwich was actually down to mischievous minor royals out to prove that the middle classes would eat anything if they thought it would make them appear to be higher up the social scale than they actually are. Best eaten with the crusts removed, for added affectation.

CUSTARD (#ulink_b4612b91-a2a6-5635-affb-3efb9160fed0)

In fancy circles, such as the marketing meetings of ready- meal manufacturers for upmarket supermarkets, our beloved milky yellow pudding lubricant is known as crème anglaise, which makes it sound like some terrible Gallic euphemism for semen, perhaps in revenge for us calling condoms ‘French letters’. Traditionally, custard was made from eggs, milk and cream, but everyone knows that the real thing is made from Birds custard powder or simply comes ready-made out of a tin. Our love for custard was highlighted by a news story in January 2008, in which banged-up bad boy Newcastle United footballer Joey Barton was reported to be warding off attacks from fellow prison inmates by buying them custard. After all, what hardened lag could resist its soothing yellowness? Custard powder is highly explosive in large quantities and can create a delightfully vanilla-scented explosion if not handled correctly. For this reason you are not encouraged to take your custard powder as hand luggage when you take your two-week package holiday in Spain and should instead stow it in the hold alongside your tea and Marmite.

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DAFFODILS (#ulink_b4612b91-a2a6-5635-affb-3efb9160fed0)

This flower is often associated with the Welsh, as it can be worn on the lapel to celebrate St David’s Day. But the bright yellow flower also serves to welcome in the spring and remind the whole of the UK that it is Mother’s Day. Florists open early on Mothering Sunday to catch the trade as we go to visit parents, but tradition states that the correct gift for this day is daffodils that have been stolen from a public park, grass verge or, if all the free daffs have gone, bought from a petrol station forecourt.

DARWIN, CHARLES (#ulink_b4612b91-a2a6-5635-affb-3efb9160fed0)

From relative obscurity in the field of geology, Shropshire- born Darwin rose to be one of the most unpopular men of all time, so we are naturally proud that he is one of us. The disdain and even outright hatred for Darwin grew from his 1859 book The Origin of Species and other progressive works, which have long been used as a benchmark in disproving the existence of God, as well as putting forward the idea that we may have evolved from other primates. Some see his worst crime as perpetuating the career of the ever so slightly creepy Richard Dawkins, whose books, such as his recent Tooth Fairy: All Lies, regularly top the bestseller lists.

DECKCHAIRS (#ulink_b4612b91-a2a6-5635-affb-3efb9160fed0)

Now, let us get this straight: deckchairs are not all that difficult to put up. From 1945 to 1962 an estimated 65 per cent of British comedy was based on the concept of deckchairs being hard to assemble. Not a lot of funny stuff was happening during this period, obviously. What is more revealing about the deckchair is its design, in that it is very much about a slight lying back but not really about lying down. This is because we see lying down as being a sign of continental laziness, suspicious shiftlessness and loose morals. We may be on a day or week off by the sea, but we don’t want to be seen as slovenly. What the deckchair says is that we want to sit almost upright and possibly listen to a man playing an organ on the pier (see