Those of us who appreciate the England of marmalade, fine pipes and tobacco, potted shrimp, and a cup of tea, can only look on in sneering contempt as ultra-right yobbos in balaclavas burn down city centres and scream unintelligibly because there are too many people who aren't lilly white or properly obsequious flooding in to the country.
Good heavens, there is no further need to go to England.
They've become "some very fine people".
Some of my friends make splendid marmalade, fine pipes and tobacco now come from other countries, potted shrimp will give you gas, and tea, everyone now knows, is Chinese.
And the loud angry Brits are a bunch of bean-eating wankers.
Acid indigestion is a national characteristic.
A month ago it was still ultra-lefty useful idiots spouting the old-fashioned Stalinist party line about Americans and Jews, and American Jews. Mass marches every weekend. At that time I knew it might be a while before I visited Blighty. What with being a Jew-loving American.
Now I suspect it might be at least another decade.
If ever again.
I'll source my English supplies locally. Californian marmalade, Scandinavian-made pipe tobacco, and once in a while some homemade potted shrimp. Pacific shrimp. And Hong Kong style milk tea at a local chachanteng or bakery where there are NO rioting lower class unwashed Brit illiterates right outside tearing up the street and burning taxis and police cars, largely because the swine can't travel further than Spain where the locals don't want them.
Avoid constipation: yes to California marmalade, no to British pub food.
And, seeing as Patak's fine pickles are exported to the United States, one can get a taste of England simply by heading over to the local stores. I'm sure Mr. Patel will be glad to see me.
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