by Iain Aitch
BLYTON, ENID
With hundreds of books written and hundreds of millions sold, Enid Blyton is probably Britain’s best loved and most read author. Her writing may be considered dated and restricted, as well as occasionally racist and sexist, but you can be sure that more Britons have read her work for pleasure than have ever opened up those leather- bound Complete Works of Shakespeare (see shakespeare, william) that languish on so many shelves. The Noddy stories are still extremely popular in book form and on television (though now stripped of the golliwogs), but it is the Famous Five and Secret Seven series that are the archetypal Blyton books that we Brits have a fondness for. These promise adventure, secret hideaways, idyllic childhoods, swarthy strangers and lashings of ginger beer once the mystery is solved. Blyton claimed to have written entirely from her imagination, though if you consider the bizarrely fantastical content of some of her fantasy stories like Folk of the Faraway Tree alongside the fact that she wrote as many as 10,000 words per day then you could be forgiven for wondering what the hell she was putting in her tea.
BOAT RACE
Ostensibly a simple rowing race between two universities (see oxbridge), this contest somehow clambered its way up the roster of sporting events of national importance to sit alongside the Grand National and the FA Cup Finals and became a regularly televised spectacle. The first race between Cambridge and Oxford universities’ boat clubs was in 1829, with both teams being named ‘blues’ after the colour of their blood. The race is from Putney to Mortlake, which is 4 miles and 347 yards. The point of the race, for the general public at least, is that at least one of the boats should sink, though this has not happened in the actual race since 1978, when the light blues of Cambridge went under.
BOND, JAMES
The dashing MI6/Secret Intelligence Service agent, created by writer Ian Fleming in 1952, was named after the author of a book about birds he happened to have at his Caribbean home. The first Bond novel was 1953’s Casino Royale, with the huge success of the series dictating that they be turned into films. The Bond film has been a hugely successful franchise since Sean Connery first starred in Dr. No in 1962, though Fleming himself saw actor David Niven as more the archetype of 007. Speculation over who the next actor to play Bond will be always makes for a large number of column inches in the press, with Daniel Craig being the current incumbent. Bond is known for his love of fast cars, fast women and nifty gadgets. The Aston Martin DB5 is the classic Bond car, though the luxury motor manufacturers have never thought to market a model with a working ejector seat. The Bond film is always a favourite on television at Christmas: their simple plots and the likelihood that they will be repeated mean that even the most inebriated, unconscious member of the family can follow the story-line.
BOUDICA
Queen of the Iceni people in the east of England at the time of the Roman invasion, Boudica (or Boudicca or Boadicea) was one of the most fierce and fearless British women of all time: she was even scarier than a night out with Scary Spice, Pat Butcher and Anne Robinson. Boudica is famed for taking on the Roman forces and destroying Colchester, St Albans and the fledgling city of London, leading a rebel army in a fit of ransacking and destruction not seen on a similar scale until closing time on Oliver Reed’s stag night (see stag nights). Boudica was eventually defeated somewhere in the Midlands around 61 AD, though not before thousands on both sides had died. Fatalities are thought to have been fewer on Reed’s stag night, though no accurate records for casualties on either historic occasion are available.
BOWLER HATS
For around 100 years from its invention in 1850, the bowler was the dominant British hat, transcending class headwear rules and leaving an enduring image of the Brit as bowler- hatted. The hard felt hat was designed by James and George Lock and manufactured by the Bowler family milliners for the Earl of Leicester. The Bowler was initially used as a riding hat, though it soon became popular with bankers and civil servants, offering a halfway house between the top hat and the flat cap. The Bowler was later adopted by some manual workers, who prized its protective raised dome. It has largely fallen out of fashion now, though it did enjoy a resurgence in the late 1960s, thanks to the film A Clockwork Orange. This brief revival was most confusing, as you couldn’t tell who was a slightly eccentric outmoded banker and who was a psychotic film fanatic bent on a bit of the old ultraviolence.
BOXING DAY
While the rest of the (Christian) world gets on with life as normal from about 5 pm on Christmas Day, we draw the whole thing out by adding Boxing Day on 26 December. The day is said to be when servants were given their ‘Christmas box’, usually some kind of bonus, by their employer, though its name may also be derived from this being the day when drunk or hungover members of the aristocracy were most likely to beat (or ‘box’) their charges. This tradition of fisticuffs on Boxing Day was continued by football fans, as the day saw local derby matches played between teams such as Liverpool and Everton as well as between Arsenal and Tottenham Hotspur. Fans of these teams still have songs in their repertoire that boast ‘We shall fight for ever more, because of Boxing Day’. I am sure that some families would be only too willing to echo those sentiments.
THE BBC (BRITISH BROADCASTING CORPORATION)
Depending on your opinion (and mine depends very much upon whether they want to option this book as the basis for some kind of ‘Best of British’ style show where C-list celebrities pretend to remember clips they have just been shown), the British Broadcasting Corporation is either a wonderful British institution, the pinnacle of broadcasting and worth every penny of the licence fee or an overblown money pit that taxes viewing, wastes budget on endless clip shows and is a propaganda machine for Britain’s politically correct liberal-left. The corporation was founded in 1922 by Lord John Reith and came into state ownership in 1927. Its mission statement slogan is ‘Nation shall speak unto nation in quite a posh accent’ (see queen’s english) and it is now responsible for a huge array of television channels, radio stations and internet sites across the globe. The BBC has been responsible for nearly all of Britain’s best-loved radio (see radio 4) and television programmes, as well as Noel’s House Party.
BRITPOP
Re-enactment societies have long been popular in Britain, often re-staging battles between the Roundheads and Cavaliers or even the rival armies of World War II, though in 1997 it was a musical conflict that was re-enacted, with Britpop reliving the days when you had to choose between The Rolling Stones or The Beatles. Unfortunately, it all went a bit wrong when the media re-created the nonexistent battle of The Kinks against The Beatles between middle- class mockney band Blur and the faux Fab Four, portrayed by working class Mancunian monobrow merchants Oasis. Lots of Union Flags (see union flag) were waved, some other similar bands formed and took a large amount of cocaine, some stole bass lines from old punk bands, Tony Blair was elected and everyone got home in time for tea (see tea as a meal).
BRUSSELS SPROUTS
According to just about every poll ever taken, the Brussels sprout is Britain’s most hated vegetable, which is going some as we really don’t like vegetables all that much at all. Even the country’s vegetarians are pretty ambivalent about veg. The correct way to cook brussels sprouts, or any other vegetable, is to score, soak for a week and then cook at a rolling boil for one hour. Don’t pay any attention to what Nigella says, just because her dad used to be a really corpulent Chancellor of the Exchequer and is now really quite skinny; you don’t want to risk your vegetables being al dente (which is Italian for recognisable). When Brussels sprouts are grey they are ready to serve. It is mostly the taste and gas-giving after-effects of these vegetables that we dislike, but the fact that they bear the name of the Belgian home of the EU adds to our hatred, as this is the place that sneers at our apple varieties and wants to impose straight fruit standards upon our native banana growers.
BULLDOG
The British Bulldog is the animal that we see as most summing up the British spirit, reflecting
our never-say-die attitude (see blitz spirit), combative loyalty, tendency towards inbreeding and propensity to snore heavily. The slack-jowled canines are less aggressive than modern ‘devil dogs’ such as variations on the American pit bull, but they will stand their ground and match any breed when riled. The dogs also lend their name to the classic playground game British Bulldog, which is a kind of disorganised free- for-all licence to assault fellow pupils.
BUNTING
These distinctive decorative hangings are a sign of celebration and good times: the lengths of string and pieces of triangular cloth are hung across village streets, school fields or outside council offices. Most often used to mark a summer fête or a street party, bunting is usually red, white and blue, displaying a touch of patriotism. Bunting is also used to decorate used-car sales outlets, signifying that the secondhand car business is a non-stop party. Traders displaying bunting are obliged by law to blow one of those party streamers should you make a purchase.
BURBERRY
Founded in Basingstoke in 1856, Burberry grew to be one of Britain’s best-known premium clothing brands, with its raincoats being seen by those at the top of society as the de rigueur thing to wear during a downpour, be it in Berkeley Square or in rural Buckinghamshire. Burberry invented the trench coat for the War Office at the start of World War I, as well as kitting out Armundsen for his South Pole mission. Its reputation as a fashion brand has lead to Burberry being one of the most bootlegged ranges in the world, with fakes featuring its distinctive brown and beige tartan fabric popping up on market stalls everywhere from Romford to Riyadh. The Burberry baseball cap has become the signifier of football hooligans and chavs (see chav), leading many bars to ban them and the brand to cease their manufacture. In 2006 Burberry closed its manufacturing base in Treorchy, South Wales, moved its operations to China and thus ceased to be a truly British brand. Ironically, counterfeit Burberry is often more British than the real thing now, with much of the fake designer wear being made on industrial estates in the Thames estuary area.
BURNS, ROBERT
To the Scots, Robert Burns is every bit as important as William Shakespeare as a literary figure. The poet wrote in English and in Scots dialect and is probably best known for writing the lyrics to Auld Lang Syne, which most of us can just about half remember by the time we come to sing it each New Year’s Eve. Burns died at the age of just 37 (from a rheumatic condition thought to have been worsened by prodigious drinking), though he left enough of a legacy to be celebrated each year on 25 January, when Scots and their descendants mark Burns’ Night. This occasion sees Burns’ Address to a Haggis (see haggis) being read, which is followed by a large amount of haggis eating and whisky drinking. Robert Burns is in no way related to Montgomery Burns from The Simpsons, though he is celebrated in the United States by having two towns named after him.
C
CARAVANNING
Hated by pube-haired television petrolhead Jeremy Clarkson and loved by former foreign secretary Margaret Becket, caravanning brings the British characteristic of amateurism to holidaying. After all, why stay at a hotel when you can tow around a small tin can that contains a chemical toilet and a foldout bed? Most true caravan enthusiasts carry a small tartan flask with them at all times, so that the police can be sure they are not new age travellers or gipsies.
CARRY ON
This series of 30 comedic films ran from 1958 to 1978 (let’s ignore 1992’s mirthless disaster Carry On Columbus), creating a uniquely coherent documentation of British tastes, attitudes and humour throughout the period. The films were at their best from the mid-1960s to mid-1970s, containing a wonderful blend of self-deprecation, self-aggrandisement, saucy seaside humour, prudery, sex-starved wives, hen-pecked husbands, camp and red-blooded male fantasy. Not every film hit the spot, but any that contained the mix of Sid James, Kenneth Williams, Charles Hawtrey, Joan Sims and Bernard Bresslaw was usually a winner. The series’ finest moment came with Carry On Cleo in 1964, which was filmed on the set of Cleopatra and is memorable for the Kenneth Williams’ line (as Julius Caesar): ‘Infamy, infamy – they’ve all got it in for me.’ Though Sid James (as Mark Antony) also manages to sum up the series’ attitude to foreign languages with the simple expression ‘Blimus!’. Another seminal (quite literally for boys who were reaching puberty at the time) Carry On moment was when Barbara Windsor’s bra flew off during a workout in 1969’s Carry on Camping, which is one of the best-known scenes in British cinema history.
CHANGING THE GUARD
The Queen (see Queen Elizabeth II) is notorious for being easily bored, so most mornings she gets up, puts on her ermine dressing gown and screams, ‘Won’t someone change this bloody guard, I am bored of looking at them now’. This distractedness is fortunate for tourists, who love to see the pomp and ceremony as different regiments and companies hand over the keys for Buckingham Palace amid a display that reflects the very best of British tradition. It is colourful, dramatic and rather baffling for all but those taking part. More baffling still is the retention of the mounted Queen’s Life Guard on Horse Guards. These mounted troops sit in place for most of the day, ready to save the Queen should she be involved in a swimming accident, despite there having been no swimming facilities in the immediate vicinity since the time of the reign of Queen Victoria (see queen victoria). On hot days the Queen has been known to feign distress in a small inflatable paddling pool, just to make sure that the Life Guard are paying attention.
CHAV
Origins of this shorthand term for white working-class youth are much disputed, with everything from Romany, Geordie and Kentish slang offered up as the true source of the name given to this group that mostly shops at JD Sports and considers a trip to Matalan as ‘a bit posh’. Male chavs mostly don tracksuits, trainers and Nike or (fake) Burberry baseball caps, while the female of the species often scrapes her hair back in the tight ‘Croydon face lift’ style, usually teaming WAG fashion items with something in white polyester to show off her fake tan. Confusion has reigned in town and country since male chavs started to adopt expensive outdoor wear brands such as North Face and Berghaus, especially as the latter was previously worn mostly by over-60s on rambling outings (see hoodies; rambling). This strange brand appropriation can cause great consternation when seeing an anorak-clad group approaching, not knowing whether they are going to drunkenly harass you or offer you some Kendal Mint Cake.
CHEESE ROLLING
The summer months do odd things to us Britons, bringing out our pagan past and our desire to mark the season with odd festivals, strange sporting events and suicidal chases after things we could quite easily buy at Tesco (or Waitrose at the very least). The end of spring and approach of summer sees grown adults, some with no known history of mental impairment, taking part in shin-kicking contests, toe-wrestling bouts and the annual cheese rolling at Cooper’s Hill in the Cotswolds. In this contest a whole Double Gloucester cheese is released to bounce its way down the hill, with actual human bipeds following it after a one-second gap. As the cheese reaches terminal velocity those following smash into each other, into the hillside and into the fence at the bottom of the hill. Broken limbs are usual. Catching the cheese is not. All of this adds to the world’s view of us as lovable eccentrics (see eccentricity), though few are willing to acknowledge our prowess in this kind of sporting pursuit, which is why they are objecting to shin-kicking and racing with a burning barrel of tar on your back being included in the 2012 London Olympics.
CHIPS WITH
Yes, we do eat chips with almost everything in the UK, but there is a special place in our heart for the takeaway tradition of smothering the delicious golden fingers of potato in a variety of toppings. The law of the chip shop says that only four are acceptable: these are gravy, curry, peas, or beans. Of course, the peas must be mushy and the beans must be of the baked variety, though curry and gravy allow for more vagaries. Should it be thick? Should it be runny? Should the curry be a strange green colour and have raisins in it? Probably not
. Some modernists seem to believe that cheese is also an acceptable topping, but these people are just wrong, sick even. If you are one of them please seek help. These wonderful meals should always be eaten from a polystyrene tray while walking, using a wooden fork that is far too small to be of any practical use and offering the very real risk of planting a two-inch splinter in your tongue.
CHURCH BELLS
The quintessential sound of morning in a British village is the peal of the church bells, calling worshippers to prayer, annoying shift workers and those with a hangover equally. The patterns of ringing do not vary much, becoming such a part of our national soundtrack that we will notice any irregularity. The language of the bells was utilised in civil defence plans during World War II, with different tolls meaning that the Germans had landed. This can be seen in effect in the 1942 film classic Went the Day Well, where rural villagers are inspired to a spiffingly jolly killing spree when Nazi infiltrators choose to invade their village and their village alone. The extended ringing of bells is mostly associated with the end of a wedding, which really is the last thing you need if you are still suffering the effects of your stag night.
