This post is brought to you by a common Englishman – represented by a common American.
Bloody ‘ell, if there’s one fing that really pinches me bollocks, it’s gotta be ‘ow we Brits are always represented as a group of spazzy posh numpties. ‘Ere I am washin’ me fresh scones down with some milky tea from my Union Jack mug, mindin’ me own n’all, and all you cheeky American bugger’s are off there makin’ us look like a bunch’a chavvy plonkers. Well I’ve ‘ad enough m8.
So me ‘n my top bloke Barrington were watchin’ that blimmin’ classic Lion King when Baz pointed out that the villain, Scar, only went an’ got himself a bloody British accent, didn’t he? Why I was flippin’ fumin’ I was – why is it us Britty Biscuits are always the poxy bad guys? We’re actually a bunch of proper great laughs, if ya get to know us! We’re your bloody allies and yet you steamin’ plonkers still wanna make us look like a bunch’a backstabbin’ nancies?! Ya mingers.
You know what, I don’t even really give a monkeys todger about that – what really straightens me teeth is ‘ow you all still ‘av such a primitive view of us Englishmen. Barrington was just tellin’ me about that Dark Knight film all the divvy’s are gabberin’ about, tellin’ me all how the only British bloke (a top British bloke, mind you) was only a bleedin’ butler weren’t he? A bleedin’ posh, nancy butler, straight outta Sherlock ‘olmes or some guff. At least you used an actual English sod to play the butler, unlike all yer other projects, where you just use some yanky prat to butcher the accent instead.
I don’t know why you just point yer sticks at us Englishmen, it’s like ya bloody gormless blighters don’t realise that we’ve got plenty other countries you could alienate – Wales, Scotland! Nope, it’s like to all you beefburger chompin’ gits Great Britain is made up of only posh nancy butlers from 1840! Crikey O’Reilly.
Honestly, I aint got any buggerin’ idea if you’re doing it out of sprite or ignorance. Prolly spite, just so you can ‘av a good giggle at us for as long as ya bleedin’ can. I am a bloody Brit, and I refuse to be tied to this tea-drinkin’, scone-eatin’, crooked toothed, top-hat wearing nancy bloody butler stereotype. My teeth are only slightly crooked, I only scoff down a few scones and a little tea, and my top hat is only for bloody special occasions. Bloody special.
At the end of the bloomin’ day, national sterotypes are never gonna blimmin’ change, are they? Brit’s will always be a bunch’a villainous, moaning numpties – and American’s will always be a bunch’a big boomstick weilding extremist pillocks! Let’s all rejoice in our inevitable national identities, aye! We can all just hope that no blighter’s take these regional stereotypes seriously, and it’s all just a bit of fun – just a coupl’a lads takin’ the piss. Even though we know for a fact that this is not the case. This will never be the damn case.
Just how bloody cheesed off am I: I am bloody cheesed off! (10/10)
My Face When being culturally attacked:
Thank you for taking the time to read this post, written by the common, everyday Englishman. If you had any trouble reading or understanding the content, then get off yer bleedin’ ‘igh ‘orse ya cheeky barmpot! Also, give the weekly writing challenge a go ya bloomin’ divvy!