I went to France to live en famille and learn the language.
My timing was a bit off.
I arrived on the day of a general strike. Not good, as we – my French exchange partner Gerard Thaler and I – had to travel to Paris then across France to the Jura, and this was the most complete, all-embracing strike I believe they have had in my lifetime.
On my way back to England, I recall feeling ashamed at the self satisfied, conceited English people I saw (this was only 6 years after a war we had won). To cloak my identity I spoke French all the way to London, hoping I wouldn’t be associated with them.
I was reminded of this when watching the cricket in Australia.
Few things are more nauseating than England fans when we win. Pretty ridiculous when it happens so rarely.
Just to put things in context: when you look at what really matters a recent survey reveals we are:
24th in quality and quantity of infrastructure; which incorporates 8th for telecoms, 18th for electricity, 20th for railways, 24th for roads, 27th for aviation.
On the overall measure Singapore, Germany, France (yes, France) and Finland are the first four on average.
One triumph we enjoyed that was omitted was No 2 for obesity, having overtaken the Germans, who really must try harder.
I don’t know how well we’re doing on illiteracy, gullibility, teenage pregnancy, fatuous delusions about football and smugness.
Hate to think.
But here is the mystery. If the place is so dreadful, how come there are more foreigners than natives living in my block off the King’s Road? How come so many come here – and stay?
And how come my friends (not English, by the way – Italian and Russian) find it so horrid living in Paris?
There are clearly some attractive facets of our national psyche that my teenage self never spotted.
Drayton,
I once had a friend who lived in Kiev for 9 months. He told me that any time you meet someone vacationing abroad from a 3rd world country, it almost always means they're a rich gov't official who's taking milk out of babies' mouths to fund their largesse.
I imagine that's somewhat exaggerated but nevertheless probably about right.
Alexis de Tocqueville said that dictatorships have a small number huge vices and democracies have millions of small ones.
So if I had to choose between tribal warfare in Zambia and obnoxious belching Brits at a soccer game, I'd probably choose the latter.
Perry Marshall
Zambia is an apt example. A beautiful country ruined by political zealots.
Kenneth Kaunda, largely to blame, was an idol of the British left, of course. They seem to divide their admiration between murderous shits like Castro and Guevara and woolly-minded idealists.
By the way, can I have the video of our dog and pony act from last year, please?