I once worked with a young woman from New Zealand whose accent was so extreme that she actually talked out of the side of mouth, contorting her lips to the right in order to do so. You had to stand next to her to hear what she said.
I remember her solely because of the way she hated Britain. She hated everything about the mother country, but what she hated most of all, she hated the weather. And she felt that the weather was clearly the fault of the Britons.
I am reminded of this on the news that the BBC has received 545 complaints about the vuvuzela, the idiotic and insufferable novelty horn which is ruining the World Cup.
Like the weather, the vuvuzela has to be someone's fault, and who more appropriate than the BBC?
I didn't pay my licence fee to listen to a bunch of hottentots impersonating an oversubscribed moped rally!
Come to think about it, I didn't pay my licence fee!
Mary Whitehouse, where are you when we need you?
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