I went to England for the first time last week, and in the run-up to the trip, it became very clear that I am one of those Americans.
Whenever anyone suggested doing something nice in London—a “roast”? a trip to Piccadilly?—I tortured them with my Cockney accent, “Wright mate, fawn-cee a point wichha fuwl Engwish?,” which prompted one of my colleagues to offer to call a paramedic. Going through customs, I asked Bari if the Hundred Years’ War was real or pretend. I’d also heard that in the UK—and I have no idea if that means something different from Great Britain and if that’s different from England—private schools are called public schools, and mushy peas are something adults eat, too. Maths is plural—isn’t math bad enough on its own? Also: What the hell was Brexit?
I had too many questions for my English colleagues to answer, so I just asked them: Who is the Britishest man in England? His name is Sir Jacob William Rees-Mogg, and he’s a traditional conservative politician. The “sir” is because, a couple of years ago, the outgoing prime minister, Boris Johnson, included Rees-Mogg in his “resignation honors.” When our presidents are leaving, they do pardons; in England, their leader makes their people knights of the realm.
I decided to go see Sir Jacob.
