What's with the British... baked beans

OK, this is a small one, so let me be brief: baked beans. They're nasty. Gritty, tasteless, horrible things, far-too-often covered in a nasty, overly-sweetened artificial-tasting tomato sauce. Not good at all. And back in the day, when the mines were your main source off employment, I can see using them.

But now? No, put them away. Don't put them on toast. Don't put them on potatoes, don't put them on sandwiches or anything. They are just nasty. And the worst part is, the British zeal for soaking any food in sight with baked beans ruins some otherwise great food, notably the breakfasts. I love almost everything in a traditional English breakfast. Bacon? Awesome. Sausages? Awesome. Fried potatoes, toast, fried mushrooms? Awesome. Even the tomato is decent. So you're off to a great start. And then, BAM! Out of nowhere comes the baked beans, generally slopped on with a huge ladel, just ruining all they touch.

Britain, hear me well: put the baked beans down, and walk away slowly and nobody gets hurt.

See the rest of my "What's with the British..." series.

What's with the British... traffic lights

In my years on this planet, I have travelled to many different countries (19 at this point), and have keenly enjoyed the differences between one culture and the next. While I do believe-clichéd though it may be-that there is more that makes us alike than different, more that unites us than divides us, I also feel that the nuances between two cultures are always fascinating and add spice to one's life and one's travels. So I love to see the differences, and compare my experience to the cultures I see around me.

In many cases, these differences are neither good nor bad, just different and interesting. However, that's not to say there are some differences worth pitting two countries against one another for. And thus we come to today's "What's with the British..." post. I have come to the conclusion that out of everywhere I've lived, Britain alone must gain the title for World's Worst Drivers.

Now, I know this is contentious, and perhaps "worst" isn't exactly accurate. Let me clarify: Britain has the world's most inconsiderate drivers. I've ce

rtainly seen scarier drivers. The French for example, seem to have a distorted view of the size of their car, and merrily jostle into a space far too small for them (as evinced by the myriad bumps and scrapes on French cars). Americans practically invented road rage, and with somewhere in the neighbourhood of 250 million guns in the country, have reasons to fear that rage. The Cubans drive at breakneck speed, on whichever side of the road happens to be paved better, all while dodging oxen, chickens, and giant pickup t

rucks with 50 people in the back. And never before or since have I feared for my life like I did the day I took a taxi in Istanbul to Koç University evidently piloted by the illegitimate child of Mario Andretti and Lizzie Borden.

But I think the British are woefully inconsiderate for one primary reason (and many smaller ones I won't elucidate here): they have redefined the traffic light. This little fella right here:

Now to the rest of the world, this is a very standard symbol. Green means go, amber means slow down and red means stop. The British, however, have reinterpreted this. Green still means go, sure. But amber now means "fucking floor it!" and red means "don't worry, you've still got time to get through". I saw an American standup comedian once who described the people squeaking through at a red light by saying the first guy was legitimately unable to stop, the next guy excuses himself by saying he was just following the previous guy and a third person sneaks through admitting "sorry, I'm just an asshole". In Britain, four more cars follow that guy!

Most of these "What's up?" posts haven't been to rant-ish so far, but this one is: Britain, please stop when the light is red. I know you could lose up to 20 precious seconds, but I'm sick and tired of almost being run over for crossing-legally-on my bike or as a pedestrian!

See the rest of my "What's with the British..." series.

What's with the British... deodorant

Continuing in my gripe of insignificant, yet strange and often irritating gripes about the UK: deodorant. Dear Britain, let me show you what deodorant should look like:

That's right, a stick of solid deodorant/anti-perspirant that you rub under your arms. These exist in the UK (only Lynx seems to make them, and they can be hard to find sometimes), but they do exist. And nobody uses them. Instead, they have this strange obsession with spray-on deodorant.

Now, it's not that spray-on deodorant is bad. It's that it doesn't work as well, people use so much of it that they end up filling the locker room with a noxious cloud of horrid-smelling cheap musk, they cost more, deplete faster and leave you reeking of cheap nastiness. So, actually, I guess it is that they're worse. There are times at my gym when I can't breathe without coughing and gagging in the locker room because some perspire-a-phobe has emptied nearly half a can on his underarms, chest, back, ass, legs, arms and face. I've literally smelt this putrescence outside two sets of doors from where it was applied.

Oh yeah, and you can't bring them onto airplanes. Use a stick of deodorant like normal people. Yeesh.

See the rest of my "What's with the British..." series.

What's with the British... taps

OK, this is a consistent, albeit minor annoyance I've noticed since moving here. For some unfathomable reason, the British seem to insist on having separate hot and cold taps, rather than a single, adjustable one. Now, on the face of this, who cares? They're taps, it's not the end of the world. While this is true, it leads to the totally flummoxing situation where I have two choices when washing my hands; nearly-glacial cold water, or water so hot I cannot hold my hands under it (seriously, without hyperbole, the taps in the men's room in my office building dispense water so hot it steams). How is this useful? Who uses the hot one and where did they get the sub-dermal asbestos? But more importantly, is it really that tricky to get a tap which has an adjustable temperature?

See the rest of my "What's with the British..." series.

What's with the British... an intro

So, I've periodically ranted about some weird eccentricity or idiosyncrasy about British culture, mores or norms. However, I've never really done so in a cohesive manner. That's about to change. Whenever I notice something that annoys, befuddles or perplexes me, I'll post it here, and tag it with "What's with the British". This page will serve as both an intro to this series, and an index. I expected that each post will be pretty short, as it's essentially just my ramblings about something confusing I've noticed since moving here.

• What's with the British... taps?
• What's with the British... deodorant?
• What's with the British... traffic lights?
• What's with the British... baked beans?
  
• What's with the British... street signs?
• What's with the British... case of the missing top sheet?
• What's with the British... screenless windows?