My wife and I relocated to the UK a few months ago after spending the past 37 years in the United States, and I cannot stop comparing the two countries. I oscillate wildly between my irrational exuberance at America’s superior market efficiencies and my sheer amazement at how orderly and polite you all are.
These reactions surprise me, as I am hardly new to these shores. I attended graduate school at Oxford, worked for a while in London, married a beautiful and talented Essex girl (TOWIE indeed), and have consulted for the UK government in Northern Ireland for the past eight years.
But now I actually live here, there are so many things that I am seeing with new eyes and deeply appreciate about the UK. Let’s start with the major ones. No guns. We lived in Virginia, which is an ‘open carry’ state, which means that anyone with a licence can openly display their handguns and automatic weapons. It is a little unnerving when you visit the local grocery store and see a shopper with a holster and side arms. I know that knives in the UK are a scourge, but you still don’t have to worry about a mass shooting when you send your kids off to school in the morning.
British politics. Everyone moans about their country’s politics, but no one here is going to assault and pillage No. 10 after an election result disappoints. No other democracy has anywhere close to the diversity of your political leadership. And in a presidential election year, when the Democrats and Republicans will each raise more than $1 billion in their marathon to the White House, the amount of money your politicians can raise is capped by law. Not having to spend all their time raising money means that they can actually spend their time mastering their brief and representing their constituents. You know, actually performing the job they were elected to do.
I had forgotten what a remarkably literate and articulate society you have, notwithstanding the oceans of ink the tabloid press relentlessly devotes to the culture wars. (Are trans ballet dancers really a threat to national security?) Higher education is more affordable. The idea of a work/life balance originally seemed like an alien concept, but I am warming to it. If I understand it correctly, it means I can now take off August and don’t have to leave my mobile number at work with instructions to revive me if I ever have heart surgery.
No list of wonders can avoid mentioning pubs, which irrigate friendships and reinforce a sense of community. I will never be able to explain to my American friends why I prefer room-temperature bitter to that tepid dishwater they serve in the States. I love the idea of starting my day with a breakfast beer at Wetherspoons, along with other punters stopping for a pint before heading home after the graveyard shift. That is why they are drinking at eight in the morning, right?
I am grateful to be living here and plan to do everything I can to repay your generosity
Your regional theatre is a treasure. Your football is the best in the world, from the Premier League all the way to Level 7. I will never call it soccer again. I am dead certain you will win the next World Cup, but then I was certain the last time as well. Your public transportation is excellent (on the days without strikes). Heated towel racks. Sandi Toksvig on QI. Bob Mortimer on any TV show. So many vegan options in the supermarkets. Cornish pasties and Greggs sausage rolls are sublime. The All England Lawn Tennis Club insisting that players wear only white, an antique directive that is more than a little precious and absolutely appropriate.
The Cotswolds and Lake District are world-class destinations. Solitary cenotaphs forever standing at attention in village squares make me misty-eyed. The different regional accents make me smile. I know we have them in America, but yours seem to have much more colour and character. I would like to know where you learn your ‘mustn’t grumble’ stoicism and queuing discipline. Cheap vacations to the continent are a gift. I even love the fact that you still pretend the UK is not part of Europe and that you have to travel to get there.
At its heart, the differences between American and British humour showcase the contrasts between the two societies and cultures. British comedy tends to be more intellectual, prizing cleverness and wit. (Has there ever been a joke better crafted than Bob Monkhouse’s, ‘Everyone laughed at me when I told them I wanted to be a comedian. Well they’re not laughing now’?) And the reference for much of your humour is a shared national memory of a far longer history and richer literary tradition. America is simply far too geographically sprawling and far too diverse to have this type of common vocabulary.
Some things remain beyond my comprehension. Ground rent and stamp duty. The TV show Tipping Point, whose drama barely exceeds that of paint drying. McVitie’s Digestives with white chocolate. Beach huts. The Lib Dems. Salad cream, which you have to admit is really just mayonnaise in a different-shaped bottle. Sinks with separate taps for hot and cold water. Retail stores whose doors only open inwards, defying both common sense and proper fire safety. Top prize for my mystification: why you are still litigating the outcome of Brexit.
At the end of the day, these annoyances are petty; none is close to being a deal-breaker. In truth, I am grateful to be living here. The UK has played an enormously positive role in my life, giving me a scholarship to study here, allowing me to find a wife, and most recently providing a work permit. I plan to do everything I can to repay your generosity.
Mitchell Reiss is chairman of the International Churchill Society and a Distinguished Fellow at the Royal United Services Institute.
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