An Essay on England. Featuring several American ironical devices.

The English are a funny bunch. Well, in truth, they’re an infuriatingly tedious bunch of fungal encrusted yeast infections, but to get the piece started, let’s call them funny.

To begin with, they’re very ugly. Some would say “Circus ugly” others just plain “butt ugly”. Whichever way you look at it, The English are a reliably unbeautiful people. This point is certainly not new. The English have been accused of being plain since before the Middle ages, but now at last Science is investigating why.

Canadian geneticists studying British school children in 2004 concluded, (hesitatingly of course) that there is evidence to suggest “measurable chromosomal damage” to the English gene, which may go some way to an explanation.

The study suggests a possible link between chromosomal damage and alcohol, which the English have a long history of abusing. Other suggestions include the English tradition of inbreeding between family members but whatever the cause, the damage helps explain why so many, many English people have weak chins, round faces, thinning hair, a tendency toward mongoloid features and a general look that seems ever so slightly Downes Syndrome in appearance.

Except the people with Downes Syndrome of course.
They look like English runway models.

And the cruelties of Mother Nature do not stop at the Englander’s gaspingly hideous good looks. The English are notoriously badly made. Pale skin that freckles in the sun, teeth that appear to grow virtually sideways out of their gums, a predisposition toward halitosis, chronic dandruff the size and shape of corn flakes, EEES (or Enormous-English-Ear Syndrome), pipe cleaner arms, chest hair that looks like it grew in an arse, notoriously sensitive tummies and long, hairy ET fingers that seem to have seventy five knuckles on each hand.

The cultural stereotype of English beauty is best exemplified in the following amusing interchange between American tourists.

MAN: Boy the men over here are very unattractive.
MAN2: And the girls too. Why I’ve seen pigs I’d rather sleep with than some of
the women over here.
MAN: Ha ha, now I know you’re joking

The train wreck of genetic misfires that is, the modern Brit seems biologically programmed to cause offense at all times. Some have claimed the offensive experience of British people proof that Nature has pegged Englanders for extinction by making them unsatisfactory mates, but this does seem an extreme view.

More likely is the fact that while a collision with a group of English people is likely to assault many of your senses, the reasons are far more likely to be social and cultural rather than biological in origin.

For example, the unpleasant, often indefinable odor of the common English person is largely due to their attitude toward personal hygiene, which is unenlightened to say the least. Queen Victoria is still highly regarded by the British people as a woman of consummate cleanliness and was famed for indulging in regular baths, “up to two a week”.

The reluctance of the typical British person to engage in regular washing is best encapsulated in the long-standing American joke, overheard in a London tavern.

MAN: Hey, that guy was the best salesman I ever met. Why I dare say he could even sell a bar of soap to an Englishman.
MAN2: Ha ha. Now I know you’re joking.

Not content to look and smell bad, much like a toad with BO, the English seem to insist on sounding bad as well.

If poor had an accent, it would be English.

Nothing says “I am an uneducated taxi driver” better than the Cockney accent. The East London accent sounds like it is on welfare, the north London sounds like a petty thief, the South London accent sounds long term unemployed and the famous Etonion accent employed by history teachers at public schools all but screams, “I am a boy hungry pedophile”

Contrast London with New York, and you’ll find people from Harlem sound like they’re recording a hip hop album, The Bronx as though they’re “Serving and protecting” the good citizens of NooYork, Brooklyn, (ahh Brooklyn, good people) sound like B-ball playing Firemen, Manhattan has a Black Amex Card and the East village sound like an episode of Sesame Street. .

The form of English most people mistakenly believe has been exported to the rest of the world is called The Queens English and is referred to as such largely on account of the fact that the only person in the whole of Britain who speaks that way, is the Queen. And she’s German.

Occasionally, you may find yourself in the midst of an upwardly mobile middle class Englander, (they sound the way Hugh Grant does when he’s trying to solicit American prostitutes) in which case you will doubtless encounter that most tedious of British conventions. Passive aggression.

Passive aggression is essentially a slimy insult. Also known as a sideways insult, (the Spanish refer to passive aggression as “sans cojones” - literally, “without testicle”), it is a curiously British institution, (popular in the ridiculous middle and upper ridiculous middle classes) that allows an English person to insult someone without having to admit it.

The cultural tendency the Englander has to be simultaneously “offensive” and yet “cringingly servile” is largely the impetus for why the barb “quisling” is so often aimed at The British. As laughably and transparently proud as they act, the British simple cannot muster the self confidence to be as out rightly rude as the French , nor do they possess the strength of character to be polite in the face of adversity like the Japanese. Instead, they perform a verbal masturbation. They ejaculate an insult and hope they don’t get caught while wiping it up.

On a personal note, I’m not fond of the term passive aggressive. It’s one of those words that lacks oomph. It’s like eating an English cheese or looking at Manchester’s most beautiful pin up girl. It’s too limp.

There must be a better way t put it. I suggest “limp dick rudeness” or “a wanker’s insult”. That seems to convey something. It paints an accurate picture. In any event, you’d be hard pressed to find a group of people who so perfectly exemplify “limp dick rudeness” as the British.

Apart from the offensiveness of their appearance, the British are notorious for creating offensive works of archtitecture and town planning, exemplified perfectly in England’s crowning triumph of a capital, the malingering turd of conrete and soot, London.

The nicest thing one might say about London is that it doesn’t work and to leave it at that. More vocal pundits may declare that at its best London is little more than an ambitious toilet and at it’s worst it induces vomit, but to be fair, criticizing London for being ugly in a country that as inadequate as England is a little like complaining about finding a urine stain on a used condom full of chromosomally damaged British semen.

So for the purposes of brevity, let us oversimplify the matter and say that London is not good. In its heyday, (now several centuries ago) London may’ve reigned supreme as a capital of open sewers, plague infected rodents and child prostitution, but those days have long passed and now in decline and London has aged badly.

Much like Sir Paul Macartney’s sagging foreskin of a neck or Sir Mick Jaggers muched-up-testicle-sack of a face, it is in dire need of a facelift.

We will see in part two of this essay, why this won’t happen, and why the British male is famed worldwide for his sad performance in the bedroom.