Entirely its long history, it’s been a grassy and pleasant land, a sceptred isle and a nation of shopkeepers. It’s stood as a beacon of democracy and a bastion of ideological freedom, as affluent as a crucible of empire and a cradle of order oppression. Magna Carta, the King James Bible and the welfare state were all dreamt up here, but then again so were beer bellies, Bovril and Mr Bean. It’s a nation of tea-tippling eccentrics and train spotters, of dog lovers and footy fanatics, of punk rockers, gardeners, gnome collectors, celebrity wannabees, superstar chefs, free-wheeling borough traders, pigeon fanciers, cricket bores and part-time Morris Dancers. To some it’s Albion. To others it’s Blighty. To many it’s the most eccentric, extraordinary and downright incomprehensible place on earth.
