Being German I come with an innate, hard coded skepticism about anything English. (it slots in right between the pedantic desire to always be on time and the the undeniable urge to drive a column of Panzers through the low countries)
This doubt usually manifests itself in the form of a raised eyebrow and a look of incredulity when confronted by their unshakeable faith in winning another Soccer World cup. (ha ha)
That’s not to say they haven’t made a believer out of me with some of their other endeavors.
English breakfasts are without a doubt one of the best things about being alive and I’m obviously a big fan of Isaac Newton, John Locke and John Stuart Mill.
English sports fans really are the best though.
Although maybe I should pointedly exclude their football fans, whose vocal range and talents are likely just as accomplished as their other sporting counterparts, BUT there is always the added danger of getting a pint glass accelerated into your jowls and then while you’re doubled over wondering what the hell just happened suddenly becoming intimately familiar with the tread of a steel toed boot as it is repeatedly rammed into your cranial space (all because you wore the wrong color t-shirt).
There is however nothing quite like experiencing the Barmy Army bellowing out their songs during a five day cricket test match somewhere pretty (like Newlands)
Yes, I also like cricket. Also very antithetical to the solid Teutonic value system imprinted on us at birth.
I don’t know why.
Go Darke 