The Fine Art of Queuing Up – British Style

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Let’s face it: our forebearers, forefathers – or whatever you want to call them – on the other side of the pond, have a few things not going so well for them. The lot of them have got grills fresh from the tannery and uric acid treatment facility, arranged in the antithesis of symmetry. They desperately cling to the powerless puppet show called a Monarchy, where the biggest claim to fame these days is (1) random, spied, Duchess boob – in and of itself, a non-event and (2) a worldwide devotion to said Duchess’s hotter, younger sister’s, pretty fabulous ass. The U.K. also has the dubious distinction as being the first in line at the political trough, shamelessly following the U.S. into the latest/greatest, unjustified, Imperialist , invasion like a dumb puppy on a leash – misinformation be damned.

Let’s face it: every Englishmen of the last 200 some odd years, is still burning up something awful inside, losing nightly sleep, at the bitter pill of having fucked up Colonialism badly, and losing this rich land in the Revolution. They just won’t admit it. So it’s really inspiring, now and then, when you see some clever Brits pull off something original, inspirational, and dead-on accurate like the video above. There’s all kinds of right going on in there on how exactly to wedge your way to the bar, and – as they beautifully put it – “queue” up for a drink at a slammed bar.

Our brothers from another mother do have a number of other extremely attractive qualities. Even stinky bums,criminal masterminds, and street trash sound downright bone-jumpingly attractive with the merest Cockney, Welsh, or Glaswegian twang. I’m instantly dumbfounded, frozen with shock, awe and jealousy at the faintest whisper.  And oh… they happen to be home to some OK architecture and a handful of decent writers.

So take a hint from the Old World on how to score a drink. You just might learn something.

Bob’s your uncle.

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