Divided Languages - Across the Pond: An Englishman's View of America - page 5

certained, not determined. The British say “It must be,” whereas Americans tend to say
“It has to be.” You can feel comfortable with something in Britain, but nothing like as of-
ten as in America. You would not generally say “We feel comfortable using this taxi com-
pany,” any more than you would ask someone whether they felt comfortable with the idea
of being scourged till the blood ran down their thighs. Your actions may influence a situ-
ation, but they cannot impact it, just as you can protest against a ruling but not protest it. To
do something momentarily in Britain is to do it for a few moments only, not to do it very
soon. This is why it sounds curious to British ears to speak of momentarily cutting your
head off, or momentarily ploughing your way through War and Peace .
Americans say “Excuse me” when they accidentally get in your way, whereas the British
say “Sorry.” They reserve “Excuse me” for either trying to squeeze past someone, or but-
tonholing a stranger on the street. One knows one is back in the United Kingdom when
everyone is constantly saying “sorry” for no reason whatsoever. When a friend of mine is
asked by a waiter what he would like to order, he cannot help starting his answer with the
word “sorry,” as though he is distraught at putting the restaurant to the trouble of relieving
him of his money. If someone slams rudely into you in London, you say “sorry.” No doubt
the British will soon be apologising for being stabbed in the street.
What you say in Britain when you don't hear what someone says depends on your social
class. The working class say “Aye?”, the lower middle class “Pardon?”, the middle class
“Sorry?” and the upper class “What?” Lower-middle-class people whisper furtively in pub-
lic, the middle classes speak at normal volume, and the upper classes bray. It belongs to
upper-class self-assurance to assume that you have the right to say what you like as loudly
as you like, rather as noblemen once had the right to hang revolting peasants or deflower
their brides on their wedding night. One is thus forced to overhear the conversation of the
well-bred, though these days in Britain plenty of people are only too glad to hear what you
are saying. Strangers who used to try to conceal the fact that they were eavesdropping on
you have stopped pretending and just shamelessly listen in, occasionally with their hand
cupped to their ear. No doubt they will soon be asking you irritably to speak up. Similarly,
there was a time when the people at the next table to you in a restaurant used to pretend that
they were not staring inquisitively at your food when it arrived. Nowadays they are more
likely to stroll over to your table and peer open-mouthed over your shoulder. They might
even take photographs of your meal on their cell phone and send them to their friends.
Nobody in Britain zeroes in or stays focused. Though they occasionally get excited, the
word is less common than it is in the States, where people quite often say things like “It's
fun, it's exciting, I love it.” Enthusiasm in Britain is regarded as mildly vulgar. In the sev-
enteenth century, it was thought to be responsible for the beheading of a king. This is why
the British do not usually say “I love it,” unless they are talking about pie and chips or see-
ing their boss fall down a manhole. Americans, however, are embarrassingly spendthrift in
their use of the word “love.” One of my children once attended a junior high school in the