an average brit

As a species we have an uncontrollable need to complain,
This appears to be the British way,
We complain in the cold of winter that we want the sun,
That we want the heat,
But once our want is answered it’s suddenly too hot,
We want the cold,
And when we get it,
It’s too cold once again.
We sit and drink our tea,
Hobnob in hand,
And cock our pinkie finger as we sip our earl grey or Tetley tea.
We wear our bowler hats,
Tap a useless Cain that serves no real purpose,
As we stroll off to do our overly British tasks,
All the while complaining,
Coloured by our sarcasm,
And excessive uses of the words bloody and Pillock,
We queue and chat with a stranger like we’ve known them for weeks or months rather than seconds,
There’s a phone box on every corner,
We’re always prim and proper,
But this isn’t old England when everyone wore suits,
We don’t all have china we bring out to drink our tea in,
We drink our tea in mugs,
We even drink coffee,
Only some wear bowler hats,
Those that do are either arses or have incredible luck to pull off such an unflattering accessory,
Although our first attempt to fix an electronic is to turn it off and on again,
We don’t talk to people in queues,
Only in London would you find an excess of phone booths,
We carry mobiles like the rest of you,
We don’t prefer to lug around change so we can dial a number in a public phone booth,
We text and swear,
Some worse than others,
But one thing you all got right,
One thing that makes us undeniably British,
Is our automatic response to form the queue in which we condemn ourselves to wait,
We are orderly and most wait our turn,
But even more than that,
We complain while doing so,
We complain about the queues we make for ourselves,
We complain when half the biscuit falls into our tea,
We always complain the weather man got it wrong again this weekend,
We complain because that is the British way,
We don’t complain about being British.
No.
We complain because we’re British.

small spelling issues al *cane but apart from that I adore it

thank you am, i'm awful with spelling haha but i'm glad you like it. this is what happens when people let me think about random stuff. stories or poems get written about it. might do an Italian one next.