Sundays are now dedicated to telling you why Britain is ‘Great’ because it’s clearly not down to land mass.
It’s only recently that I’ve started to notice some pretty great things about Britain, I suppose it’s knowing the difference between Britain and The Rest of the World (which is a place that revolves around Britain and it’s greatness acting all jealous and stuff). Every time I come back from The Rest of the World I realise how much I love Britain and all those, when you think about it, weird bits that make up an even weirder empire. So from windy roads to snow in summer, Victoria sponges and a population programmed into tea addiction, I’m going to show you why Britain is the best, I mean greatest. Rad Britain.
So first, Posh Totties.
Think public school, boarding if your family hated you. Think country mansions, maybe a studio in London. Think History of Art degrees. Think tweed. Think Made in Chelsea. Think ‘darling’. Think-
“Male or female totty whose poshness is an essential part of the appeal e.g. well educated; mellifluous voice; charming classy manners; sophisticated conversation; expensive clothes; trendy address, etc.” (Urban dictionary)
Everybody hates them, they hate everybody. I love them.
(I know a few of those who’ll read this will think I’m doing some sort of self-reflective post. Well I’m not that posh actually; I just have the mellifluous voice. Oh and maybe the charming classy manners.)
Basically every Posh Totty is a condensed form of everything British, especially for The Rest of the World. However they are becoming an endangered species, hiding from the annoying activists that prance around the streets demanding things like equality, human rights and free ice cream on Sundays. This is a very sad case for Posh Totty wannabes like me, but last weekend I found myself surrounded by these incredible mammals at Penshurst Point to Point, Kent.
I was staying with my cousins, who are very good at being posh, and on one incredible almost-Summer’s day we ventured to the nearby horse event.
Firstly I should not have been surprised by the poshness of this event 1) because it’s a horse event which would mean those funny horse people and 2) this area of Kent has probably had it’s name changed from ‘Poshville’ to ‘Penshurst’ so that the Totties could not be found so easily by the scary activists.
It was the sheer amount of Totties that got me. Everywhere, everyone, dressed in tweed and Barbour with big glasses and those hats that look like a wrapped dead animal. I was so thankful I’d brought my fake Barbour coat and was sporting some Joules wellies; I didn’t want to be caught as an intruder, it might have scared them back into their rabbit holes.
I was in my element. Rich farmers, posh banter, stalls selling wax coats and horsey things, even my accent didn’t alienate me. Was top notch.
Take it from me, a misjudged Totty, posh people get it hard from the rest of Britain. Personally I think they’re great and The Rest of the World agrees with me. Their poshness is a pretty historical thing and something that should one day be put in the National History Museum. For now we must preserve this rare species and thank them for everything British they do, which is everything they do.