by Iain Aitch
DICKENS, CHARLES
The author of A Christmas Carol and Nicholas Nickleby is much admired for his portrayals of life among the lower orders in the Victorian era, though not so much admired for his rather dull visitor attraction in one corner of a discount shopping mall in Chatham’s former naval docks. But Dickens is remembered more for the contribution that his own name has made to the language than for his literary efforts, with the term ‘Dickensian’ summing up any amount of poverty-induced squalor or unsafe working conditions. Contrary to popular belief, Dickens did not write Oliver Twist as a musical, though that is the version that everyone both remembers and prefers, which does beg the question as to why its composer Lionel Bart does not have his own theme park and annual festival. The numerous Dickens-themed festivals and events around the country attract a large number of Britons who like to dress up in period costume, though pox-ridden whore, gin-addled mother of eight and hunchbacked child chimney sweep are not among the more popular modes of fancy dress, which mostly feature bonnets.
DINING AT THE ROADSIDE
As you travel around Britain’s roads you will realise that many of us find it hard to get from town to town without the need to stop off for a warm snack and a mug of strong tea. Roadside catering vans dot the A-roads of Britain, offering the difficult choice between a sausage sandwich and a bacon sandwich, as well as between both colours of sauce (see hp sauce). Oddly, Indian or Chinese food has not taken off in these vans, with the same kind of all-day breakfast cuisine also being offered in our motorway cafés, such as the ubiquitous Little Chef restaurants. These outlets differ from the roadside vans by offering indoor seating as well as staff that are obliged to wash their hands occasionally and who do not use the grass verge as a lavatory. That said, I personally think that the food offered from a converted portable toilet by those growing potatoes under each of their seven fingernails is still preferable to most dishes that Little Chef serve up.
DOCTOR WHO
Born out of the British love of science fiction writers such as H G Wells, Doctor Who slowly grew from a scary vision of future time travel and galaxies beyond the stars to a rather camp interplanetary pantomime (see pantomime) as the hopes of British domination of space exploration faded. The dandyism of John Pertwee’s Who signalled the way in the early 1970s, but it was Tom Baker’s interpretation that marked the time lord as a figure of eccentric fun. But shaky sets and silly scarves aside, the programme became internationally adored and respected, maintaining its family-friendly scares and good writing. The show’s recent revival has shown that it is a winning formula, with the dashing eccentric doctor/sexy young female assistant set-up making sure that the whole family can sit down to watch, unlike when Sylvester McCoy was Doctor and everyone started to wish the Daleks would just win and get it all over with.
DOGGING
It perhaps says a great deal about us that one of our most recently celebrated sexual deviancies involves standing around in a car park watching other people have sex. This may seem odd, but look how much we like being close to our cars. Just visit any beauty spot in the UK and you will find a family having a picnic next to their car, with their backs resolutely turned on the beauty spot in a silent protest against its showiness. Dogging at once celebrates our love of amateurism alongside our reputation for ambivalence about the sexual act itself. Thus, we wind up watching a middle-aged couple go at it on the back seat of their Mondeo whilst thinking: ‘Well, I could join in, but then I would get messy and anyway these pants are clean on. Ooh, what shall I have for tea? I like that car blanket they are doing it on’.
DOGS
Whether we are walking our King Charles spaniel, petting our poodle or pitting our illegal pit bull against a friend’s Staffordshire bull terrier in a pub basement, we credit Man’s Best Friend with feeling affection back and with probably more intelligence than we would a snarling, slobbering human who we had to clean up after each time they went to the toilet. Recent incidents of dogs attacking children have lead to further campaigns by some groups of dog lovers to blame owners and individual dogs rather than certain breeds for these problems, despite the fact that incidences of savage chihuahuas tearing the arms from infants have remained at a constant zero. Dog owners usually see cats as distant and spiteful, suitable only for crazy old ladies and lesbian couples who don’t own a turkey baster. Greyhound racing is still a popular form of entertainment in Britain, with courses around the country attracting wannabe gangsters, gambling addicts and the kind of men who find the idea of dog breeding more stimulating than is healthy.
DOG POO
We are famous for being a nation of animal lovers, though we are sadly not so well known for being a nation that shows concern for what comes out of their rear end. This means that the pavements, parks and pathways of Britain are usually covered in dog poo. Treading in canine excrement is, apparently, lucky, though this is probably just some kind of odd pro-turd propaganda put about by lazy, irresponsible dog owners. Up until the 1980s white dog poo was just as common as the brown stuff, which was due to a now-abandoned government experiment. In the experiment some dog foods had phosphorent particles added, which would then aid dog-poo visibility. Scientists at the government- run Porton Down research centre wanted to go further, producing yellow crap that would glow in the dark, but cost-cutting measures put paid to these plans. Others claim that the white crap was down to ash and other fillers being put in the dog food, but that is just crazy talk.
DOLE
Until fairly recently, this payment was seen by many as the working-class equivalent of the gap year. The collection of unemployment benefit, income support or supplementary benefits was seen as a rite of passage by any teenager who did not really fancy (or could not gain entry to) work or university and who wanted to be a writer, musician, dreamer or waster. In high-unemployment Britain in the 1980s and 1990s young people could quite easily take a year out without anyone in authority expecting them to do anything as silly as get a job. After all, they may be trying for a baby and that takes time and dedication, especially if you are trying with two or three different potential mothers or fathers. The name dole comes from the handouts (or ‘doling out’) that were given to the needy, especially that which came from the church or from wealthy philanthropists. Some dole traditions of this kind still take place at certain times of the year around the UK, especially at Easter.
DONKEYS
These beasts of burden can often be seen working on farms in southern Europe, but only in Britain do we use them to ferry children up and down sandy beaches. First introduced at Margate, the donkey ride has become as much a part of seaside holidays as sandcastles, sunburn and being swept out into the shipping channel on a lilo. Their favourite food is ice cream and EU employment laws state that they must be paid the equivalent of one 99 (single flake) per week. No seaside postcard is complete without a picture of a donkey on it.
DOUBLE-DECKERS
London has always been famous across the globe for its red double-decker buses, but these are also a part of life around the whole of the UK. Not only can they carry lots of people efficiently, but they also provide a neat guide to your place in life and in society. As a teenager the only place you should be sitting is at the top and at the back. This allows you to try out all the ring tones on your mobile phone while you draw graffiti on the back of the seats and glower at other passengers. As you move into your twenties and thirties you will slowly move forwards, toward the safety of the stairs and an easy escape route in case anyone should start to look at you a bit funny. The only exception to this rule is the front seat on the driver’s side, where anyone of any age can take a turn at pretending to be a bus driver, or just stare down the periscope at the driver’s bald patch. From the age of 40 onwards you should sit downstairs and contemplate life’s complexities while listening to your iPod and reassuring yourself you are still quite hip. Beyond that you move forward towards priority seating, tutting when no one gives up their seat for you and glaring at youn
g mothers when they try to get on with a pram.
DOUBLE ENTENDRE
A central plank of British comedy for many years, this French phrase describes the wonderfully inventive ways that comics can play with our language using double meanings. The form came to light in slang and in acts in the theatres and music halls, so as to befuddle the upper classes and the censors. It was even thrown into acts to make the audience feel they were part of this conspiracy to get away with something, where adult themes were hidden in seemingly innocent sketches or songs. So, She Sits Among the Cabbages and Peas could be an innocent tale about a young girl lazing around in some vegetables or a dirty ditty about urination. The filth is in your own mind, which makes it all the more amusing. The 1970s saw a double entendre boom, with the Carry On series of films (see carry on), The Two Ronnies and Are You Being Served?, where shock-haired Mrs Slocombe would talk endlessly about her pussy and how it got damp the previous evening. James Bond films (see bond, james) carried a similar level of sexual double entendre, with the character Pussy Galore being one glaring example.
DRAG
The act of men dressing up as women is a complex part of our culture that has a huge number of unspoken rules and just as many apparent contradictions. Drag can be a cosy part of our family entertainment, evening comedy shows or even Sunday lunchtime pub singalong, but as soon as the man dressing as a woman actually tries to look like a woman and not a pantomime dame then a line is crossed. This is mostly because many British men know their propensity to go for a drunken grope of anything that looks vaguely female and do not want to have to check what sex the object of their lust is before advancing.
DR MARTENS BOOTS
Are you sitting down? Good. Then I have some shocking news to impart. This most British of boots – which has served the police, postmen and members of Combat 18 since the 1960s – is actually a German invention. Invented by a Doctor Maertens to help with a foot injury he had, the famous air soles of the boots were first made from rubber left behind in Luftwaffe airfields after World War II. The idea was imported and the name anglicised in 1960, with the famous 1460 boot taking its name from the date of its release, 1 April 1960. It became fashionable as street wear for skinheads and punks and has grown from being available in simply eight or ten holes and in black or cherry red to being available in all kinds of designs and colours. Of course, all of the other designs and colours are horrible and should only be worn if you are a teenager with an identity crisis on your way to Camden Market. The boot was celebrated in song by comedian Alexei Sayle, who was just one of the boot’s celebrity fans. The boot was made in Britain until 2003, when the business moved its manufacturing base to China.
E
EASTENDERS
First written to be a BBC Schools programme (see the bbc) that would act as a deterrent for teenagers who wanted to run away to the big city, Eastenders portrays London as a place where you will most likely wind up dead or married to one of a pair of diminutive skinhead brothers who love their mum almost as much as they love domestic violence. Citizens of the East End are forbidden to own washing machines, so social life centres around the local launderette, though it is closed on Wednesdays to deal solely with Pat Butcher’s ‘smalls’. Eastenders star Barbara Windsor is on standby to become head of state should Britain take a sudden turn towards republicanism.
ECCENTRICITY
Foreign visitors and observers from afar love to witness and comment on British eccentricity, which we take to be an endearing admiration of our eclecticism and propensity to be unusual. This is not what they are actually saying. What they mean is that Britain is essentially a lunatic asylum whose gates they enjoy rattling. If someone called you a nutter in a pub you would probably offer to settle the matter outside (perhaps proving their point), so it is our duty to take on the rest of the world until they are eating hospital food and not calling us mad anymore, or at least not to our faces.
ELGAR, EDWARD
Moustachioed nineteenth-century composer Edward Elgar wrote the Pomp and Circumstance Marches, from which Land of Hope and Glory was culled and has become an unofficial anthem for Britain. The song is used as the official anthem for England at the Commonwealth Games (see commonwealth) and draws upon Britain’s naval heritage and our mastery of the seas. Elgar was seen as a deeply patriotic writer, though some of his more poetic works, such as The Dream of Gerontius would have been dismissed by the tabloid press as far too poncy and highbrow had they been written today. To be fair, though most music not created as a result of reality TV shows is seen as a bit poncy by most tabloids today. Elgar was a fan of Wolverhampton Wanderers Football Club who cycled to matches and even wrote a chant for their fans on one occasion based around the words ‘We bang’d the leather for goal’. It didn’t catch on, but Land of Hope and Glory can still be heard at nearly all football grounds in one of two variations, with fans using it as the backing tune to sing about their hatred for rival teams or their love of following their own team.
EMPIRE
It seems almost unbelievable now, but in the early twentieth century Britain effectively ruled one-quarter of the world population and one-quarter of the world’s landmass. The Empire was expanded by our skill in trade and in seafaring, though bloodshed, robbery and slavery did play a large part as we went on to control vast swathes of Asia and Africa, as well as Australasia and parts of the Americas. Most of this was simply down to us looking for somewhere where we would not have to constantly remark, ‘Ooh, isn’t it parky this morning?’ and our innate desire to get on the property ladder, somehow. All that is behind us now, with only a few rocky outcrops remaining and the Commonwealth surviving simply for those countries that like to see our Queen on their money or stamps. Of course, the Empire has also been a major source of immigration to the UK; mostly via offering those in former colonies some low-paid work by way of apology for generations of profiteering on their land. In exchange, we left the colonies with cricket, rugby (both of which they now beat us at) and an overwhelming amount of bureaucracy. In fact India became so efficient in the ways of British- style bureaucracy that we now outsource much of our paper pushing to Mumbai. We have also benefited from the arrival of un-bland food that immigrants brought with them, as well as from their cultural input. Canada has been a bit lax in contributing though, and has only offered the odd Bryan Adams CD.
THE ENGLISH CHANNEL
Yes, half of it may technically be the French Channel, but who really cares what they say or think about anything, apart from when you need to get there to buy some cheap booze and the lot of them are on strike. The 21 miles across the Channel have long been seen as a challenge by British swimmers, mostly because the arduous journey represents a chance to pick up some duty free fags and booze without having to pay for a ferry crossing. Channel swimmers famously smear themselves with grease before starting their crossing. Many use goose fat as insulation during their Channel swim, though when comedy actor and writer David Walliams undertook his swim he utilised fat that had been liposuctioned from several of his celebrity friends.
ERNIE
While the rest of the world was holding lotteries, rubbing off scratchcards and generally whooping it up by winning millions, we in Britain retained our composure and dignity by being happy with the unfussy act of being rewarded with £50 by an anthropomorphised random number generator. ERNIE, or Electronic Random Number Indicator Equipment as his close friends know him, has selected the Premium Bond numbers since 1957, bringing fleeting very minor elation to millions. The Premium Bonds are a peculiarly British form of gambling, where you can get your money back if you don’t win, as you are essentially investing in a government bond where the dividend is the chance to win a prize. The arrival of the National Lottery (see national lottery) made Premium Bonds seem about as sexy as thermal underwear, but they still remain a largely unspoken minority taste for conservative thrillseekers in much the same way as admiring Damart long johns does.
EXPLORATION
We Brits
have always been renowned for pushing the boundaries of exploration, as we set forth from our tiny island in search of bigger, hotter, colder, wetter and drier places (see empire), as well as those requiring a level of mortgage less than six times our salary. This exploration lead to the acquisition of many of our colonies, as well as to the odd war or seven, often due to the fact that some darned foreigner claimed to have discovered the place first and because the natives did not speak enough English to really enable either side to resolve the matter amicably. Francis Drake, Walter Raleigh and James Cook are all celebrated seafaring explorers, but we hold a very special place in our hearts for those who have attempted to explore the Poles (the Polar regions that is, not those chaps from Krakow who renovated your bathroom). This fascination is largely down to the hardship faced by those trudging across the ice, leaving behind toes and bits of ear as they go. It also has a lot to do with our desire to find triumph in tragedy. Shackleton, Fiennes and Scott are all names that spring to mind when you speak of British explorers (though Shackleton was Anglo-Irish), but it is the contribution of Captain Oates on Scott’s polar expedition that we remember best, when he gallantly wandered off into the snow saying, ‘I am just going outside and may be some time’.
