A lack lust for life

One of the popular motorcycles sold over here, comes equipped with a full windshield, wind screen wipers, a roof and safety roll bars. This is not a novelty motorcycle. I have seen three of these in my street alone.

I shouldn’t need to stress this but part of the mystique of a motorcycle rider, is danger. It’s the devil-may-care-attitude they give off that comes from riding what, statistically speaking, is a death machine.

Hells Angels ride motorcycles.
Rebels ride motorcycles.
They ride them fast, they ride them recklessly and they look pretty darn cool doing it.

Over here, they look awful.
Over here, they ride them with seatbelts and fanny packs.
They diligently fill in their gas mileage logbooks and toot the horn when they say goodbye. They take all the fun out of it and replace it with good old fashioned sensible thinking.

The English are a sensible lot. They don’t go in for drama or emotion. They don’t take risks. They don’t embark on flights of fancy. They don’t scream during their annual night of sexual intercourse. They’re careful with spices, frugal with their enthusiasm. They know about council tax and interest rates and they enjoy gardening and milky tea.

They have a very clever way of pulling these things into the national character and making them virtues.

Pragmatic. Reasonable. Sensible. Restrained.

I would like to add a word to this list, one that follows the natural progression of thought.

Dull.

In her glory days, Britain brimmed with intrepid explorers. Expeditions to the far east. Victories against the Zulu. Fame and fortune in darkest Africa.

So when did Britain become middleaged? When did a nation built on adventure and brave exploration into the unknown turn into the Land of the Safety Harnessed Motorcycle?

Of course, there’s no harm in being careful or serious. I can’t deny it makes for a very effective economy. It protects against the unexpected.

The downside is you never get the feeling of the wind rushing through your hair, because you’re wearing a helmet and the roll bars on your motorcycle are designed to limit wind resistance.

Cynthia Lovewell

We're proud to announce Cynthia Lovewell has joined our team. Cynthia is a relationship counsellor and sex therapist and will be tuning in from time to time to give us her opinion on the British Sexual Psyche and to offer free tips and advice. She will also be in charge of the "Throw a Dog a Bone" promotion. Welcome Cynthia.

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Tradition, innit.

I am starting to believe that what the British construe as their national claim to pragmatism may well be little more than a tendency towards inaction.

The British dither. Not just in speech but in action too. The endless modifiers and hesitancies that mark their speech protrude into the pysical world and cause the momenturm neccessary for change to dawdle. To stagnate. They consider too long and too much, the moment passes, action remains steady and inert and in the end, impotent. They do nothing.

The reaction to this is often a return to the safety of tradition, to take a pride in their capacity for endurance, to tolerate quietly with a stiff upper lip.

But, I am starting to think the reason the British make so large a virtue of putting up with things the way they are, is because it makes a handy camouflage for what, in truth, is a vice.

This is a sedentary nation, prone to apathy, melancholia, malaise. A potato on the couch of Europe.