Tuppence is for the birds

Maybe it was all the Masterpiece Theat-ah I watched when I was a nerd in high school and had no social life beyond fantasizing what it would be like to make out and possibly go to third base with Mr. Knightley (from Emma fame), but on the rare times that I encounter a British person, I am always tempted to mimic them.

Not in an aping sense, don't get me wrong, more in a pure "I want to lick your chin to soak up your accent" sort of way. It really is kind of a problem. My inner brain (devil) has this mastery of assimilation, so that when I listen to some poor stranger who happens to have the curse of the Anglo-Saxon fresh upon him, I am compelled by King James I (in a metaphorical kind of way, of course) to form words in my head that take on a British slant. Like:

Random British sucker: "Right, my name is Chahles. Ah-nd yaahs?"
Me (in my head): Name's Suh Dee. Right proh-pah introduction, that."
Me (in real life): "Ummmmmm....Figs! I like figs! And geraniums! Oooh - look, a bright light! Is that tin foil?"

Oftentimes after that heady, genius interchange, I will grab the nearest piece of tree bark and start feasting upon it. Because I have to handicap myself, using crippling, nonsensical, Rain Man-type speech and slow rocking motions, for all the idolatry and imitation going on inside my stupid head. Because clearly this stunting of my own intelligence is a far superior choice to the humiliation that would accompany actually speaking in a faux British accent back to them, a la Madonna, when they obviously already knew I was American. It would upset the delicate balance of diplomacy, string theory and sociology. Did I mention humiliation? Or the fact that they would think I was a lunatic (although really, this might not totally alter their world-view of Americans)?

This, I feel, might be the real reason we won the American Revolution. They, quite frankly, had sickened of us acting like 'tards trying to drop their accents and chuck their tea in a sad attempt to Turrets them away. Guess what? It WORKED. Sadder yet, who's laughing now?

Them. In their chin-licking-worthy elegant accents, flicking us away with their Union Flag 'brellies like a pestilent blowfly. I hate myself.