jolly good, england. jolly good, indeed
Oh, England, long have I loved you. You have given me so much even though I've asked for so little, and for that, how could I not be grateful.
England, do you know you've had my heart from the very first moment I heard a carefree girl I later dreamed was me laughing her jaunty laugh to open Duran Duran's Hungry Like The Wolf? You have, England. You have.
I know you're far too sophisticated, England, to want me to tell you all the other reasons I love you, but I'm going to anyway, for I am just a clumsy American, and when I get like this, I can't stop myself. Humor me, England...
England, I woke up early to watch Lady Diana Spencer marry and become a princess, and stayed up late to watch her funeral years later. My love knows no timetable.
I love that you've given me clever, more sophisticated sounding words for things. Words like lift, bangers, loo, and biscuit. Bloody hell, England! Do you know how sexy you sound when you talk? It makes me want to bonk you, England. Hell, England, I would stand around in a bloody queue just for the chance to bonk you, and believe me, if I had that chance, I would bonk you all night long! Then, if all that bonking made us a baby, I would push that baby around in a buggy. Seriously, England, my knickers are so off for you.
You gave me the queen, England. No, not THE queen, but rather the fantastic Queen. Even that whole Radio GaGa thing isn't so bad. And while you didn't give me Prince, you did give me Prince Harry, that silly rapscallion, and for that, again, there's love. The same way I love how you generously gave me Ricky Gervais and the smashing UK version of The Office, Simon Pegg and Shawn of the Dead (and Hot Fuzz)(and oh, yes, Spaced), and England, DO NOT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON Monty Python and The Holy Grail. I mean it, England, if you get me started on that, I will never stop quoting from it. Ever.
("Too late! There he is! Where? There. What? Behind the rabbit? It is the rabbit! You silly sod! You got us all worked up! Well, it's no ordinary rabbit! That's the most foul, cruel and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on! You tit! I soiled my armor, I was so scared! Look, that rabbit's got a vicious streak a mile wide! It'll kill ya!")
(See what I mean, England? You only have yourself to blame for that one!)
The only real problem I seem to have with you, England, are roundabouts. Roundabouts are confusing, England! Am I supposed to slow down? Who do I yield to? Am I even supposed to yield? I know. It's a minor detail, really, and if you can forgive me that Robbie Williams never hit bigger here across the pond, I can forgive you roundabouts.
However, England, I think the real reason I love you is best demonstrated in the following photo:
England!! Look what you gave me on my telly! I don't remember any BBC folks interviewing me for that program, but I'll admit, those they did helped in the crafting of a fine piece of television. Oh, do not judge me, England! Just because I will never care for James Bond movies doesn't mean you have a place to look down upon me because I learned of My Big Breasts and Me while watching a program titled Brothers and Sisters in Love (you gave it to me, England. Much like you gave me My Fake Baby. It's not all Dr. Who and Gordon Ramsey, is it now, luv?) I love you, England, because you love boobs, and that makes me very randy. Shall we shag, England? Yeah? OK, but can we make it quick? That Tree Man show might be on Discovery Channel right now, and while I love you so, England, I'm a bit of a tramp when it comes to train wreck television.
Air kisses, England! Let's have tea soon!