dear england

Dear England,

Thank you for being what you are; dominating tantrum-throwing lump of rock. But don’t think I really don’t like you. I do. Whether it’s against my will or not is another question…

I would like to ask you to stop a few things. I guess you could call this an intervention. Please stop having amazing men with long, mournful faces, amazing accents, and mannerisms straight out of every bad bodice ripper. Please stop having such good tv shows; honestly, Doctor Who…why do you make us love each one, then take them away in the cruelest way, and so we hate the new face, but then we fall in love with them, and then they’re taken away…please just stop. And don’t even get me started on Sherlock. There’re enough hospital psych wards full of the remnants of that fandom.

Please stop with the cottages, the black rocky beaches, the rainy weather, the moors, and especially all the quaint. You’re so full of it it leaks all the way over the Pond. Maybe I should blame Agatha Christie for that one. Anyone who can make murders charming definitely has something to answer for.

And finally, please, with the queens who say “one fancies” and her corgis. Even if they did pioneer a whole new kind of wave, still. One fancies indeed.

But you can keep the different accents every two miles. I really, especially love that part. I think most people agree with me on that one, save for people in England themselves. From King’s to Bristolian, please keep it all. I do love a farmer, my love.


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