When British people try to imitate your accent ( Do I sound like that? SERIOUSLY!?)
Hanging out with the English is so much fun, yet there almost indefinitely comes a time during a night out where your American accent is attempted by a Brit. Suddenly, as you are telling a story, you get your American accent parroted back to you by your UK friend(s):
Them: “Hee-low, Iyme Amereycan, aynd Iye lyke yew!” (in the most nasal voice EVER)
You: “Yeah, thanks a lot.”
Them: No hard feelings, just “taking the piss” mate!
Whether you are an American in Yorkshire, London, or Wales, you’ll know what I’m describing. What do you do in these situations? The first option is to get annoyed and/or embarrassed. The second option is to laugh.
Have you ever tried the British accent in a UK group? You’ll likely get laughed at. If they get to do it, well then, so do we!
This phenomenon is only indicative of the American-UK relationship. Can you imagine your Nigerian or Swedish friends doing this? Or you doing it back? Probably not. So join in the fun on something that makes your UK experience differentiated from any other country.
Roll down a fake car window and parrot back in your best Yorkshire accent! “Excuse me Sir, but do you have any Grey Poupon?”
Forensic Spice is one of our newsest guest bloggers and is a Californian now living in Yorkshire.
peacefulyorkshire
There once was an American girl named Ms. Peaceful, aged twenty, who hadn’t yet moved to Britain. She enjoyed sweaty daily Bikram yoga sessions and MorningStar Soya burgers. She did 10 Mile bike rides in the sunshine while wearing Lycra. Tanned and toned was she. (Gawd, she even tried all those odd do- it -yourself chair exercises in Self Magazine).
Fast-forward 9 years and meet a new Ms. Peaceful Yorkshire (me): A bulge that I swear looks like I must be in the early stage of pregnancy. Oh, and those fancy Victoria’s Secret undies originally that came in my suitcase from the USA now just don’t cover my Latina bum the same way. This is good viewing for Mr. Chill, my English man, but really folks, a place in Wedgie-Ville is not the best place to be when you are trying to negotiate your salary. I dread to think how many more rolls I would accumulate if I didn’t walk to work on a daily basis. Am I not talkin’ bout the sausage ones!
The Verdict? I am slowly getting fat in England.
It’s the yummy food like Sainsbury’s olives and Cadbury’s chocolate. I am weak around buttery crumpets, bacon sarnies, the cream teas I have with my American Sistahs at Betty’s in York. The cold weather indoor lifestyle I have (what you want me to run in this mizzle?) does not lend myself to be motivated to frolic outside. Erm, ok.. it’s not England’s fault.
And, while walking home today I decided to take note of some fellow Yorkshire-ites and saw lots of other teacake lovers. Muffin tops rollin’ over jeans, big breasts spillin’ and straining in white work shirts. Ruddy double-chins. Men and women in trouser suits that need to be taken out. (And some British people think Americans are the only fatties on the block?)
Of course it bothers me. I would be such a liar if I said it doesn’t! Unlike my former American self I’ve just stopped obsessing so much. I enjoy turning on Sir MixA-lot to shake it when Yankeebean and I meet up to celebrate some curves-action. I love that many women (and men too) in the UK, as Yankeebean wrote last week , don’t really seem to give a rip about toned abs and bingo wings so openly and obsessively. Let’s face it, some British women dress like hookers when Saturday night rolls around, no matteh’ what their shape. I really admire that, even if its not my style.
I think one of our readers, Sandra Dee, summed it perfectly:
‘Not that I am against staying in shape, its just the Hollywood-ness of it all made me realise how obsessed I used to be too. I used to delight in my flat-abbed stomach. Now. well, I can’t be bothered to care. In England it is so cold that I normally don’t get the time to show it off anyway. Well, except to my English man. And you should see his stomach….. he does NOT have a six pack nor does he want one or care about my newly formed fat bulge.
yankeebean
I had an interesting chat with my brother-in-law and his wife awhile ago. My BIL and his wife travel all over the place constantly. They’ve been back and forth across the world again and again – from snazzy fancy places to places where you have to get a slew of shots before you’re allow to set foot in.
We were talking about waiting tables and how it’s bloody hard work for bugger-all cash. I commented that I’d been a waitress both in the US and in the UK and that you could made a PACKET from tips in the US – but not in the UK. Based on my experience, in the States tipping averaged out between 15% and 20% – in the UK it averaged out to roughly 1 pound per customer.
To compare – If 4 people went out and spent 50.00 GBP / 74.04 USD on a meal the tips might be:
- 10.00 GBP / 14.81 USD in America (20% tip)
- 4.00 GBP / 5.92 USD in England (1 pound per person tip)
(Rate conversion was done via Google)
When you’ve been on your feet for 8 hours and your ankles are the size of a couple of hams, the difference between those two amounts is HEEE-YOOOJE… I’m so glad I don’t wait tables any more…
Anyway… my BIL then said that they regularly receive terrible service while abroad, even in America. He thinks that all Brits are up the international creek just because of their reputation as bad tippers. Have any other Brits noticed this?
Mr Nice Guy hasn’t noticed really, but I usually do the talking when we’re out about because no one understands what he’s saying 
I’m definitely guilty of rushing to judgement about UK tipping (probably because I’ve been on the wrong side of a bad tip WAY too many times) – but it never occurred to me that it would come back to bite the Brits…
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UPDATE – I was watching Live at the Apollo last night and Jason Manford did a whole schpeal about why British people don’t tip. Too good to be true – http://bbc.co.uk/i/r95jk/. (This link will start right at the part about tipping and is only available until 15th May).
yankeebean
This was the first election that I’ve been privy to in the UK (although I couldn’t vote in it which is still annoying me right this very second).
The whole process was deliciously British! Including classic like:
- Even though Labour and G-dog-Brown lost, Gordon Brown is still the Prime Minister for the moment – who in God’s name made up that rule??
- BECAUSE G-dog is still ruling the roost, there’s been lots of mention about the UK’s unwritten Constitution. I asked Mr Nice Guy how that worked, but he didn’t really know. How do we know what the rules are if there’s no written constitution? Wikipedia provides a nice clear explanation, but I still find it pretty stymieing.
- At the core, politicians are all very similar, no matter what country they’re from. A week after arguing with (and slagging off) Nick Clegg in the political debates, David Cameron is now trying to politically seduce him into forming a government.
- There was a political scandal about people not getting to vote because the queues were too long! The fact that the scandal involved queuing just seems so right somehow. (Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s redonkulus that people were cut off – you know it was all the Lib Dem-ers, too – young, hip and late.)
I’m completely gutted that I couldn’t vote – I haven’t applied for citizenship yet (don’t have a spare 750.00 quid laying around). Who knows, maybe I’ll get to have my say in the next one…
Dearest Readers and fellow ‘Shamericans’, may I introduce the radiant ‘Ms. Forensic Spice’. She is a new guest blogger this week that has only moved to Yorkshire from California.
I was in the supermarket today after a good workout and as I was checking out, an interested checker began to chat me up.
“Where are you from? Why did you come to God awful Huddersfield? What are you doing for the Holidays?”
I began to drone the usual answers but then — Wait…What? What Holiday? I suppose I have been so far removed from any remnants of family that I had completely overlooked that Easter is here? Nope, it’s just a dumb checker. PHEW! It’s only “May Day”.
So join me, all ye transplants from afar, in welcoming this strength building exercise – because if you are alone in Yorkshire during this “May Day” weekend, trust me, you are definitely NOT alone!
yankeebean
When I first came to England I was 16 years old and I was a US size 18 (UK 16). I moved from an affluent area where a US size 8 (UK 10) was considered fat and all the popular kids looked like Abercrombie and Fitch models. (Seriously – I once heard a group of girls gossiping scandalously about a ‘friend’ of theirs that was a size 8. There was much gasping and OMG-ing going on…).
UK 18 and UK 20 are the same size – but they felt a world apart. My size went from being taboo to being faboo in the time it took me to fly across the ocean. It was AWESOME… and bloody good timing as a 16 year old
It’s the norm in the UK to show bodies of all shapes and sizes in the media. Literally, ALL shapes and sizes. The UK has a love affair with the real female body and I LOVE IT.
I’m not going to talk about health – I know there are health factors blah blah blah, but I’m not a health guru and that’s not what this is about. But having been heavier in my life, I know for a fact that making people feel badly about themselves is NOT how you get them to start living a healthier lifestyle.
There’s a wonderful glorification of ‘flaunt what you’ve got’ here. Find your best features and spotlight those puppies. Got boobs? Lift and separate . Got legs? Walk the walk. Got arms? Work those guns.
Don’t worry so much about what you don’t have – focus on what you DO have and work work work it. Then revel in the confidence of your best bits.
For evidence, watch an episode of the UK’s ‘How to Look Good Naked‘ – this show always leaves me laughing out loud and beaming with joy. It’s guaranteed to make you feel like a powerful gorgeous saucy-licious woman. I’m always tempted to strip down to the nip and run around after I watch it, much to Mr. Nice Guy’s delight… 
yankeebean
I feel like Alice through the looking glass… I have encountered the assholiest American of all time and I am PISSED OFF. This must be how British people feel when they meet people like this… I’ve gone down the rabbit hole.
I’ll start at the beginning, shall I?
I’m in the States right now visiting family, and we went to see a friend of mine who was singing at a local bar. They were pretty good and it was fun… UNTIL the guitar player thought he’d improvise a song about how bad England is and how wonderful America is.
It was HORRIFYING… And it went on for a LONG time… And Mr Nice Guy (who, in keeping with his title, is a very nice guy) was FURIOUS. And so was I. In fact, I still am – to the point that I’m still having imaginary fights with yankee-arse-face in my head.
OH, how I wish that was the end of the story… but no… no it’s not.
We saw him again on Sunday morning and this is how the conversation went (imagine his parts spoken in a really snotty assholy way)
Me: Hey man, how you doing?
Him: So what’s with moving to England? What’s so great about England?
Me: Are you serious? Have you ever been to England?
Him: Is America not good enough for you? You’re too good for America now?
Me: Have you ever been to England?
Him: No. But my friend has…
Me: Why are we even having this conversation?
Me and Mr Nice Guy got outta there pretty quickly after that. I was bright red with embarrassed rage and Mr Nice Guy was steadily swearing under his breath. Mr NG is a peaceful man, but I do think that if we saw him again he’d actually result to violence. I bet this is how the American Revolution started…
I don’t know if I want this A-hole to leave the country so he can get a friggin’ CLUE, or if he should be forbidden from leaving so he doesn’t act as an anti-ambassador.
Please, dear readers – share you’re tales of woe with me. I can’t be the only one who’s tried to defend their secondary nation…
What a jag-hole…
yankeebean
When I say ‘stuck’, please translate that as ‘YAY! I get 6 extra days in America with my family!!’
The main reason I wanted to write this blog is because of the title. How often can you write a blog title like that and have it be 100% non-fiction?
Anyway, the short version is that Mr. Nice Guy and I were supposed to fly out of O’hare tonight at 9:45pm, but instead a volcano shut down the skies over the UK and we’re not flying home until Wednesday morning…
Any other Expats stuck in their home away from home? I feel like I’ve gotten an extended snow day WOOHOO!!!!
yankeebean
Well, this week history was made (again!) by Barack Obama. On 22nd March the Healthcare Reform Bill was passed in the Us of A…
I’ve seen it on the news again and again. I’ve seen the ‘discussions’ (fights/soapbox speeches/propaganda) on Facebook and Twitter. I’ve developed my own opinions and arguments about what I think is right. But I’m not gong to talk about any of that now…
You’ve probably noticed by now that this isn’t a political blog
But I’ve just spent the past 2 hours up to my neck in White House reports, news articles and blogs about the Healthcare Reform Bill. It was high-time I got myself an edu-ma-cation about this matter that’s happening thousands of miles away in a country that I don’t live in anymore – but where I still cast my vote.
It’s straight-up weird to not live there when something big happens. Or something big is happening. It’s weird to not know how American people are experiencing these changes. How they’re talking about it at coffee break… or fighting about it out back (depending on how they communicate) 
I’m experiencing it from a British point of view, but I’m not British (and I’m guessing a lot of you are in the same boat). It effects me because my parents, my brother, his wife, and the rest of my family are going to live these changes.
It’s strange to be so close and so far from something at the same time. Another part of the expat process?
Hi there Readers,
There’s something us three gals have been meaning to talk you about. We’re loving our chats. You make us laugh, you make us think, and you ask the best questions! But there is a bit of an elephant in the room isn’t there?
I mean, there is something you still want to know. Don’t be shy. We know you’ve been searching for it, ’cause we see it in our Google analytic stats:
British men in bed.
There. I said it.
In fact, we did actually mention this once before. But we’re not really experts in the topic. You know, monogamy and all…
So we kinda need your help here. Otherwise we may have to resort to posting links to ridiculous Daily Mail surveys ranking men in bed by nationality. Desperate indeed.
So…. who wants to go first?
Oh, and thanks in advance for keeping it classy when it comes to comments. You’re the best.
PS. I’m still the same PacificYorkshireBird, I just fancied a new picture. Hope you don’t mind.
