Saturday, 13 April 2013

Encounter with English identity

I was standing out in Camden after an evening in the World's End pub with a couple of old friends, one of whom is Anglo-Indian. A pint-sized chap started trying to interrupt us, presumably so as to give us his hard luck story. Think of Camden at 11pm on Friday night and you will get the picture. We ignored him, he kept on, we rolled our eyes and kept ignoring him.

He must have got angry. He kind of crept up behind my friend and hissed: "At least I'm English." Pause. "Are you?"

We looked at each other and tsked. I turned around and gave him a hard stare, and the little Gollum shrunk back and slunk off into the night.