Here's something I always wondered. If Revolutionary American's though they were better than the Brits who stayed with the crown how come we adopted the same flag colors and the same score for our national anthem?
They were still Brits at heart. They just didn't want to pay no stinkin' taxes. So, they kept the colors & anthem and reconfigured them as an added va fungool to old Georgie,
It means you won the lottery of life. You have a great history and an uncertain future. Your ancestry may be from anywhere in the world (and a mongrel-like mixture of races). You will be basically tolerant and forgiving, but quite prepared to go to war (and usually win) if the circumstances require it. You'll look askance at the poor government of most other democracies. You'll be jealous of the Germans until you realize that they made your car but you made money by selling them investment bonds.) You'll be grateful for the English Channel. Such a lot for one word.
Love the sarcasm. I get it because I'm British and therefore better at things. (Great reply, btw)
This post was edited by Benedict Arnold at February 19, 2017 5:40 PM MST
Chim chim cheerio, and all that sort of thing! More's the pity, I always say. Wot's that, old bean? By Jove, pop over to the Vicar's for fish 'n' chips and a pint, would I? Needn't ask me twice, half a mo' while I fetch me trusty ol' Mackintosh, it's been a blighter's frightful cold out this past fortnight, you see. By and by, you don't suppose any Yanks will be there, do you, wot's that? Randall D? Dear me, not that old sod.
Listen, shouldn't he be off on Todmore Street chatting up a couple birds or pinching blokes for grammatical slights on the Tube? Do something to redirect him; he never sits still for me stories of me days at sea. That lass Lucia will do fine, she seems to fancy 'im, though I can't see why. He fancies her just as well, the blighter. Perchance we can get her to take 'im off our hands for an hour or two. Hurry now, that pint's callin' me name, it is! We mustn't dally, chop-chop! Light a torch because it's as dark as a witch's teat! It's down the lift and into my lorry, light a fag and we're off!
Good on ya yerself, there, mate. Off we go now, the good Vicar will souse 'imself in all the ale afore we get there if we don't 'urry. Don't spare the horses, that's wot I always say! Put your backs into it, you lot! ~
Benedict Arnold 