Nick JohnsonNick Johnson

Helen's comment on my previous entry put me in mind of what I've felt as the Scottish attitude towards England and the English more or less ever since I arrived here (seven years ago!). It goes something like this:

The English? Bastards! We hate 'em! Oh, but we're not talking about you, of course. Dear me, no. More tea? Scone?

I am generalising massively here, but it is the case that though I've felt quite a bit of anti-English sentiment here (World Cup, anyone?), I've met seldom few who've had a problem with me because _I'm _English. The exceptions are a drunk old man out side the Cameo cinema (that encounter proved to be too humerous a story for me to bear him any real ill will) and a couple of drunk guys in a shady night club. The later was two separate events, with both unfolding more or less exactly like this:

Him: You're English.
Me: Yes.
Him: What the fuck are you doing in Scotland, then?
Me: I might be English, but I chose to live in Scotland.
Him: Aye... well... fair play to you, then.

Quite a reasonable outcome, I thought. Things might have been different If I'd said "I'm here for the football," or "I've come to have sex with your family," though.

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