Only in Britain...why I’m proud to be British

The older I get the more I appreciate the country I was born into.

I’ve stopped envying our continental sisters with their olive skin, sun kissed highlights, uninhibited cheek kissing and natural ability to wear both straps of a ruck sack without looking like they’re about to scale a mountain.

I am British. And so what if this means I’m at home in a queue of sun burnt and knackered fellow county men at Ibiza airport or that I spent my teenage years and far too much of my twenties drinking vodka, snogging random men and trying to get my head around the Macarena?

As UK loving Gwyneth has recently realised:

‘You just get really drunk all the time, which is awesome! It was actually very liberating and amazing to play somebody who just didn’t think about consequences because I’m so responsible with my life.’

(OK, she might not have been talking about what it’s like to live in Britain, but does she realise that the life she dreams of is right on her doorstep?)

Only in Britain would the whole nation be more interested in what sex the next Beckham baby is going to be than that other royal occasion of 2011, which for most of us can be summed up in two words: bank holiday.

Not for us Brits the pornographic shenanigans of the Argentinian version of Strictly. No, we’ll have Ann Widdecombe flying in from the ceiling please. Next up, our own down to earth all-chav version of Britney, Kerry Katona – on ice.

And where else would you see a gutsy marriage proposal in front of a major sports crowd met with a mass rendition of ‘You don’t know what you’re doing’?

Let’s face it, to have never puked on Southern Comfort or smoked a fag behind a shed of some kind is to have never lived.

And us Brits know how to live.

Posted 04:06 PM on Tue Jan 11 2011

By Barbie

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