01x01 - Other People

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Very British Problems". Aired August 2015 - current.*
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"Very British Problems" is a humorous look at the British and their habits.
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01x01 - Other People

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Britain, the home of the British.

Its 60 million citizens busy themselves doing things like having a snack or a cup of tea, getting home from work and staring into their mobile phones until it's time for bed. But along with their proud history and vibrant culture, the British are bound together by far more powerful and problematic forces -- a unique set of behaviours and complicated social codes the rest of the world will never understand. Yes, even the greatest of Britons spend every waking moment blighted, hampered and frustrated by very British problems.

(Thunder rumbles)

Music: Mis-Shapes by Pulp

♪ Misshapes, mistakes, misfits ♪
♪ Raised on a diet of broken biscuits ♪
♪ Oh, we don't look the same as you ♪
♪ And we don't do the things you do ♪
♪ But we live around here too Oh, really... ♪

If you've ever tutted in a queue, worn an anorak on your summer holiday just in case, or apologised to an inanimate object, then you are suffering from very British problems and you are not alone.

I don't know why I do it, but I do it all the time.

VBPs are deeply ingrained in the national psyche.

Oh!

From our adherence to strict, unwritten rules of behaviour, to our awkward social interactions...

Oh, sorry, sorry... we have a horror of offending and an infinite capacity for embarrassment.

I'd eat a plate of cold sick, I think, before complaining to a waiter.

But why are we like this?

Why do we insist on making things so difficult for ourselves?

And do we secretly enjoy it?

I'm an island race -- leave me alone!

In this series, we'll investigate the hidden codes and prompts we all somehow inherently recognise and understand.

Tutting is one of the most British things.

We'll look for the logic behind the British behaviour that the rest of the world finds baffling.

I've never met a people who were better at not getting to the point than Brits.

And if you're suffering in silence, we'll help you be proud of your condition.

Ah, it's tough being British.

These might be problems, but they're OUR problems.

Very British Problems.

If there's one problem the British find particularly difficult to overcome, it's interacting with people just like themselves -- other Brits.

In this episode, we'll be looking at the many and varied VBPs that can occur when dealing with other people.

If you're not entirely clear what a VBP is, let's start with the basics.

As communication goes, it doesn't get much more basic than saying "hello".

Brits can't greet each other.

We're terrible, we're awkward, we're clumsy, we're rubbish at greeting.

Back in the day, it used to be simple -- you just greeted everyone, friends, acquaintances, your wife, with a good old-fashioned British handshake.

On entering the office, watch his hand.

Handshaking is not so common as in other countries.

If he does offer his hand, shake it firmly.

Good morning, I hope you've had a good journey.

If you shake someone's hand in the wrong way at a meeting, it's a make-or-break situation.

If you don't shake someone's hand firmly enough, if you don't basically almost break one of their fingers, you may as well walk out of that meeting... "How long do I shake the hand for?!"

Human beings have been greeting each other with a handshake for more than 2,500 years.

The rules are well established and pretty straightforward, yet somehow we're still not that good at it.

I'm very self-conscious about the fact that I've got tiny hands.

But I'm... I'm really paranoid when I meet blokes with hands like shovels.

I almost think they're going to take my hand and kiss it.

And I know I have a really weak grip.

And... You know with girls, when you meet their fathers or their parents?

You can just immediately sense the utter disappointment.

That, you know, if I went on to date them, if it goes on any further, that I may sire some very sickly grandkids for them.

And if we're struggling with even the basics, then putting a trendy new spin on the handshake is only going to make matters worse.

We don't know where we're at, at the moment.

We used to be very, very straight on just a very normal handshake.

But then we went the handshake and then the thumbshake and then now... Now, it's in thumb and then the one arm.

Some guy the other day did that to me and I just went, "Yeah, cool."

I just went with it.

As if we weren't already in difficulty enough, who did the British look to for help? The French!

Kissing on one cheek or two cheeks. When did that start?

I think it was when we joined the EEC, Vic.

And I met someone a couple of days ago and she offered me the cheek, I think, and then the other cheek.

But it got messy and we ended up sort of, like, nutting each other.

It's very awkward, isn't it?

Sometimes, I go for the hand and my mate goes for the kiss.

So you've got a... a hand kiss. It's very...

Or I go for the kiss and suddenly I find the hand going... There's no rule, is there?

Oh, sorry. Oh!

Oh...

(Man tuts)

The one or two kisses is a k*ller, I think. You know...

I don't know... I don't understand where I'm going with it, I don't know where it's... Also, they're not even doing kisses.

I'm just putting my... All I'm doing is putting my chin near your shoulder and my chin near your shoulder.

It's not even a kiss.

I can't work it out, and it's all because of the French.

Having tried to inject a little Continental sophistication into our interactions and failed, we certainly won't be making the same mistake with our over-friendly American cousins.

"Have a nice day"?

I say, "Please, that's up to me to have a nice day. I don't need you to tell me to have one. I'm having a very nasty day at the moment. I don't know how it's going to go, but it's nothing to do with you."

Of course that was never going to work. And with good reason!

Most Brits see right through that because they know it's not possible to have a nice day.

You could say, "Have a nice quarter of an hour," and Brits would go, "Thank you very much," because that's manageable.

You can have a good 15 minutes in this country without anything screwing up, but... minute 16, something's going to happen.

So, while things are still far from ideal, the British have at least tried to draw up a new set of greetings guidelines, as Stephen explains.

The hug always wins, that's the rule.

If someone goes for a hug, you have to go with the hug.

But there's normally a hand sort of trapped in the hug.

I quite like it when you meet someone who just grabs you, we're kissing twice and that's it. I quite like it.

"Thank God, someone's taken control of this situation."

So, having mastered the initial physical greeting, friendly contact has been made.

But, unbelievably, that's the easy part.

Now you're going to have to find out their name.

I was once in an awful situation where I was talking to someone and had been talking to them for quite some time, and didn't know their name until someone came up and went, "So are you going to introduce me?"

And I went...

"Pfft! This one? Heh! She can introduce herself!"

"I'm Lindsey." "This is Lindsey."

600 years ago, a third of all British men were called John.

And things would be a lot easier if they still were.

But until the time comes where we can all just wear nametags, Britons are busy devising their own clever strategies for finding out names.

I've spent my whole life saying, "Er, this is my, er, wife..." and waiting for them to just introduce each other.

"Hey, how are you? This is my wife, Julia! Stephanie, Julia, Julia, Stephanie."

Cos Jules is straight in, "What's your name, sorry?"

But even with strategies like this in place, things can still go wrong if you become overconfident.

My parents went on holiday recently and I sort of dropped them off and I left them in the capable hands of one of the reps, whose name was Scott Richards.

And I spent, like, an hour with him in his company and Scott was great.

You know, and I kept saying to my parents, "If you have any problems, you just need to ask Scott," and it was great.

And we were chatting away for ages and he was really helpful.

Then when it came to say goodbye, I said, "OK, have a lovely holiday, and Scott, thank you so much, you've been really, really fantastic."

And he went, "Actually, my name's Richard. It's Richard Scott."

"Oh..."

I basically insulted the guy, but he didn't say anything.

Probably because he was being too polite and British and he didn't want to make me feel awkward.

But then why did he tell me at the end?

Just assume the new name, Scott. Richard. Scott...

If you have ended up in embroiled in a conversation where you don't know the name of the person you're speaking to, there's a strictly limited window of opportunity in which this can easily be resolved after which, as any self-conscious Brit will tell you, the name must remain forever a mystery.

Oh, but no, you can do, "Sorry, what was your name?" within the first 90 seconds, two minutes tops.

If you've been in a conversation for ten minutes about mutual friends and that time you went skiing, you can't then go, "I'm sorry, what's your name?" You just can't.

Once you've embarked on a conversation, etiquette demands that you will neither ask a person to repeat, nor clarify any details whatsoever.

When someone says something and you just...

The only thing I think you can do in that situation is laugh.

You can only...

When they say something, just go... [SHE LAUGHS FALSELY]

Or you laugh and then you look shocked and say, "Oh, no." - Yeah.

You just go... [LAUGHS] "Oh, no!"

And you have to gauge it. You have to gauge the face, do you know what I mean?

It's the neutral... "Oh, my gosh, really?"

[SHE GASPS] "Oh, no!"

And then go. - Yeah.

Don't hang around. - Yeah!

Because saying "What?" or "Pardon?" for some reason is seen as rude.

Yeah. Or you simply just say, "I'm sorry, what were you talking about?"

But that's what you want to say!

I say it! - "Diction. Diction."

But you can't say that, though.

No, I can't. - You can't say that.

In a cab a couple of days ago with my son, and the taxi driver talked to me for the whole of the 40-minute journey, didn't stop talking.

But I couldn't really hear what he was saying.

A black cab, and the intercom system wasn't quite working.

I did say once at the beginning, "Sorry, I can't quite hear you," but he didn't hear me say that.

So I was too embarrassed to say it again, so I spent the next 40 minutes going, "Oh, really? Uh-huh."

Though it has its drawbacks, especially when discussing matters of great importance, this dignity-preserving arrangement is one we Brits are very happy with.

And foreigners who refuse to play the game and insist on clarification can cause untold embarrassment.

I remember once being on a plane in America and asking a woman serving us... She said, "Do you want anything?"

I went, "Oh, I would love some water." She went, "Wah-wah?"

"No, no, water. Fizzy water." She went, "Fuzzy wah-wah?"

And I felt like saying, "You're a f*cking idiot! What's fuzzy wah-wah?!"

Who's ever, ever in the history of air travel gone on a plane and said, "I would like some fuzzy wah-wah, please?"

Use what brain you have to work out what sounds like "wah-wah" that someone on a plane might like.

"Oh, water!" You know, what could "fuzzy" be?

Fizzy! It's not going to be anything else. And that's infuriating.

But, politely, I just went "No, no," and then I think I tried to put on the American accent.

I went, "No, wa-tah, wa-tah. Sparkling wa-tah." And you think, "I sound like an idiot, like I'm doing a James Stewart impersonation. Why am I doing this? You're the person who's stupid and now you've made me the stupid person."

But it's not just what we say that causes us problems.

The myriad of ways we can say it is a whole other minefield of social discomfort.

All ze people who say zey speak English, they speak with accent so differ-ent that they might be speaking foreign languages.

You may be right there. English dialects do vary a good deal.

Everyone changes their accent depending on their environment.

You know, when you see a workman come over...

(Gruff voice): "All right, mate?" "Yeah, come here to do the tiling."

I don't know if anyone's immune to that syndrome, the changing-accent syndrome.

It's not all Hugh Grant's fault, but contrary to what the rest of the world might think, there's no such thing as a British accent -- we've hundreds of them.

Usually shaped by where we grew up, we modify our accents depending on who we're talking to and how much we wish to reveal.

When I'm in a situation surrounded by posh people or Southerners, then I go really Northern just to prove a point of where I'm from.

And my wife will look at me sometimes and say, "What are you doing? "Why are you speaking like that?"

In Britain, we have different accents for different occasions.

Most of us at some point in our lives will find ourselves talking like someone from Made In Chelsea.

I've got a telephone voice, cos you have to. You can't...

No-one wants me working for 'em and being like, "'Ello, mate, you all right? What's wrong? Dentist appointment?! No worries!"

Erm, yeah, so it's... (Posh voice) "Oh, hello there."

You have to have a phone voice.

Yeah.

(Posh voice): 'Hi, Tammy, it's Jocelyn here. Hi, Tam!"

Oh, my mum has that, when somebody else rings the house...

(Clipped voice): "Oh, hello!"

Yes!

"No, he's not in at the moment."

And if you talk to my mum, "I don't talk like that, I don't talk like that, Tameka!"

Adopting a new voice can give your listener confidence that you know what you're talking about, but it can also be a useful bonding tactic socially.

We went on holiday to Portugal and we were laid by the pool, my wife and I, and there was a group of lads who were having a wedding and they were having their stag three days before the wedding at this hotel. They were really lovely guys -- Johnno and the boys.

And... my wife said... I'd gone in the pool and she said she was like, "What's that voice? That sounds..."

And she sat up and she saw me in the water just going, "Well, that's... the thing is... I mean, nah, it's an absolute piss-take, the whole thing, they just take liberties left right and centre."

And Jules was like... Her words to me were, "Why are you being like that guy you play in Gavin & Stacey?"

I was like, "I don't know!"

The Brits are always eager to please or blend into the background, but taking this too far can sometimes end up having the opposite effect.

I had a girlfriend's father who... who was not only not good at accents, but he would really go for it in a massive way.

So if you went into a Chinese restaurant, it was agony.

(In poor Chinese accent): "I would like... the sweet and sour pork."

And he wasn't taking the mickey, he was just trying to communicate.

He was meeting them halfway, I think was how he'd have described it.

When it comes down to it, our accents are basically as changeable as the weather.

I don't know why I do it, but I do it all the time, to whoever I'm with.

I don't even really know what my real accent is or what I sound like because it is only dependent on who I'm talking to.

So, to recap what we've learnt so far, if you fail to catch someone's name, DO NOT ask for it.

If you mishear someone, nod and carry on as if you know what they're on about.

And when in doubt, avoid the risk of social embarrassment by putting on a silly voice. Simple.

So, we've learnt that the British find even the most basic interactions problematic.

One simple solution we adopt wherever possible... is to avoid people.

People say, "Oh, it's so lovely in the north, everyone comes up at the bus stop and talks to you."

And you just think, "I know, that's why I left!"

♪ I'm gonna get through this ♪
♪ I'm gonna get through this... ♪

Britain is a small island with more than twice as many people per square kilometre as France.

Trying to avoid so many people requires careful planning and clever strategies.

I live on a street where -- when I come round the corner, I often see some of my neighbours standing in their gardens and I sometimes just go and hide round the corner... and go on my phone for a bit because I don't want to talk to them about the bins.

You know when you try to avoid somebody and you pretend you're on the phone...?

"Sorry, I've got take this," and it's not ringing. It's clearly...

"I have to take this."

"Hello?"

"Sorry, my love. What did you say? Mm-hmm. Oh, wow."

"Yeah, OK. Sorry, can you..."

(He mouths)

"Sorry, sorry... Hmm?"

(She titters)

I've done that a load of times and people will just believe you.

They will go, "Oh..." [HE MOUTHS]

That's it.

It's a great one.

"Sorry, I've got to... Hello?"

Gone, see you later, bang.

That's a real favourite of mine.

Yes, who but the British could see the mobile phone and realise that its main benefit would be as a means of AVOIDING conversation.

But when it comes to confined spaces, it's not so easy to disappear.

'Let her go first into the elevator, pleasant but not over friendly -- chances are that she'll be married.'

Somehow it's wrong to enter into a conversation with someone in a lift.

I hope you didn't have trouble finding us here.

People in a lift have licence to be that close to you -- but, please, let's not talk.

Let's not engage.

Let's not get to know one another.

You just want to look down at the floor and wait for the...

"Ping pong. Third floor."

And then get out.

If you have to go up to the seventh...

(She sighs)

'Millions of workers are on the move.

'They've had a hard day.

'Please, don't travel in the rush hour.'

Worst thing on a train is bumping into someone you know.

Bump into someone you know and you've got two hours of polite conversation.

I'll move. I've done it.

I've seen people I know on the train, I've been walking down the carriage and I'll turn back and go the other way.

I just don't want to speak to people.

Usually a fellow uncomfortable Brit will immediately understand the situation and willingly co-operate.

I think that the acceptable thing to do, if you don't want to speak to somebody, is absolutely blank them as if you're in a complete world of your own.

Say, tomorrow morning, I got onto the London Underground and I saw you and you didn't have your make-up on, you might look through me and just, kind of, pretend that you haven't seen me.

And I might just look through you -- and then I might just get off after two stops and then wait for the next Tube train to come along.

I think this is all perfectly reasonable.

In Britain, firm friendships have been forged out of the mutual understanding that not seeing each other is actually a bonus.

Am I weird?

Like, is everyone happy when their friends cancel?

My friends have given me like, "Oh, my God," but I love it.

I love...

My best friends are the ones who cancel a lot.

It's like the perfect friendship -- you never see them but you try and see them.

They're just brilliant.

♪ Bones, sinking like stones... ♪

Skilled as we Brits are at avoiding people, there are situations where a conversation of some kind is going to HAVE to happen whether you want it to or not, and that means two of the most dreaded words in the English language.

While the rest of the world delights in going about its daily business in effortless chitchat, for the British, small talk is a big problem.

Sometimes you do go to a dinner party and you'll sit next to two strangers either side of you -- and that can be hard work.

The boredom of it.

Oh!

Just because they know everything about something that grows at the bottom of the sea does not mean they're good fun to be sitting next to at dinner.

Like in openness about bodily functions, the gift of small talk is simply not part of our British DNA.

You guys don't do small talk, People are like "Oh, the British are always known for their small talk."

If you want to see small talk, I'll show you small talk in Ireland.

That would be "What's the weather like today? Was it lovely? Was it dry or was it, sort of, not too dry? Sort of medium dry? Yeah, so not exactly totally dry -- just, sort of, like a calm dryness. That is lovely. Do you remember the summer we got five years ago which was about almost the same level of dryness? That was lovely. That was really good. Yeah, but listen, I'm here about my smear test."

Yet despite it being so un-British, to some professions, it would seem small talk is actually part of the job description.

Sometimes I just don't want to talk, I just don't want to talk.

And one of those situations is getting in a taxi.

No! Course I don't like chatting to cabbies.

They don't know the, sort of, rules.

You have to keep it short and sweet and you know... not ranting.

Some people feel like, "A new person, BRILLIANT! I'll tell them everything that's ever gone wrong in my life."

Sometimes you get those drivers that are like,

"OK, so what do you do then?" and you tell them and you, sort of, close your eyes -- and then they ask you another question and...

"So, where you from?" "Ah, I'm from East London."

"Ah! You support West Ham, do you?"

I'm like, "Erm... no, no."

"Why don't you support West Ham?"

And suddenly you're talking throughout the whole journey, and no matter how many times you're like...

(He pretends to yawn)

And you start getting the sleep out of your eye and...

You know, the guy just doesn't get it.

He just keeps talking and talking and, by the end of the journey, I know about his family, his kids and what holidays he's had this year, and then we add each other on Twitter. It's crazy.

They want to tell me how bad cricket is.

"Oh, I can't get with that cricket, mate. It's terrible, it's boring. You waste five days."

So, why are you telling me this? I just want to sit here.

I don't like talking to people at the best of times.

The last thing we Brits ever want to appear is deliberately rude, so, when hailing a cab, it's wise to prepare a few small talk avoidance tactics in advance.

I have this trick -- it only works if you're travelling with somebody else.

But what you do, there's a time limit, right?

So, you get in the taxi... with your companion.

You have to start talking straight away to them.

If you leave a soupcon of a gap, the taxi driver will start the conversation.

Once he's started that conversation, you're in for the whole journey.

Sometimes I pretend I'm asleep.

Basically, if I'm getting a cab and I'm knackered, sometimes I've got a big pair of headphones and I just stick them on.

Then it's obvious that I'm listening to music or going to sleep.

If it's late at night -- you don't want to chat, do you?
♪ Panic on the streets of London... ♪

It's all very well dodging small talk in the back of a taxi, but sometimes a poor small talk performance has consequences.

When you're trapped in a chair by a scissor-wielding stranger who'll determine how you'll look for the next four to six weeks, the pressure is on.

♪ The Leeds side streets that you slip down... ♪

Haircuts. It's one of the worst...

I'd sooner go to the dentist than the barbers.

At least you can't speak to a dentist.

'Hairdressing today is another art, appreciated by men as well as by the fair sex. In fact, nothing surprises a hair stylist like Cyril. If the customer wants something really original, he's come to the right place.'

I have finally found a hairdresser, who I've been going to for eight years, who gets what's required, which is do not speak to me under any circumstances.

Idle chit-chat... is horrific.

I think there should maybe be a list of conversation starters on the wall and you have a little baton and you could point at it.

Cos I don't really want to talk about...

I don't have a football team, I'm not bothered about telling people where I'm going on holiday, and maybe I haven't done anything interesting that week.

So, if it just said, "Cheeses of the world," I could point at that.

But there's one place where making small talk is not just difficult, it takes on a whole new level of horror.

A visit to the GP already encapsulates, in one five minute appointment, all the things the British find most difficult.

Worrying we're making a fuss over nothing, sharing excruciatingly intimate details with a stranger, while all the time hoping we've remembered to wear clean pants.

Ooh, good heavens.

You're in the wrong place, the undertaker is next door.

But aren't you the doctor?

Oh, yes, I'm the doctor all right, but I have my limitations, you know.

I can't bring the dead back to life.

When we want to get an appointment with our doctor, we don't just get an appointment, we have to phone up the receptionist, then the receptionist will ask you what the problem is, and then you have to tell that receptionist, who you don't even know, your medical issue.

I don't like to go to the doctors, I feel like I'm annoying them.

I just think, "Oh, they could probably have spent that seven minutes looking after somebody that was actually ill."

So, I will eventually present with the most ridiculous, kind of, symptoms.

I'll say, "This has been bleeding for 42 days."

"Is this meant to be black?"

Making small talk in any circumstances is awkward enough for the Brits, let alone when we're already in an uncomfortably embarrassing position.

I hate it when you go in for, like, an embarrassing test, like a smear test, and they try to chat to you!

It's like, "Don't talk to me, don't look at me, I don't want to... I want to pretend this never, ever happened!"

I've been at the gynaecologists, I've been in THIS position and then she recognised me, from this position, Tam.

From that.

And she kept asking me about my work while I was laying there like this, and I just couldn't speak to her.

And you don't feel relaxed.

Are they thinking "OK, you're going to feel relaxed if I talk about your...?" In that position, you can't feel relaxed.

I just did this... "Yeah, no."

"Yeah. Yeah." I just did...

Everything she said, "Yeah."

And there's no eye contact.

When you come back, there's no eye contact...

It's horrible.

It's horrible.

Well, I haven't been back... - SHE LAUGHS

.. which I don't think is good for my health.

Men of my age go to the doctors to have a prostate test... and what that involves is you lying down on a bed and having the doctor put his finger up your arse.

So, I'll be quite happy with that if the doctor was quiet, and just got on with his business, but he said to me...

He wanted to involve me in a conversation.

So I laid down, trousers down, and I felt the finger... up the arse.

And as he did it, he said, "So, have you got a busy day today?"

I'm going...

And I went along with it. I said, "I'm going for a CASTING this afternoon...

"but how kind of you to enquire."

In his career, Vic has faced countless challenging parts, but probably not as many as his doctor.

So, we've found out that avoiding people is a national pastime for the Brits, we shouldn't get into a taxi without a plan and, for us, small talk is a big problem -- so I'll bring mine to a close for a minute or two.

See you in a bit!

So far we've learnt that the socially awkward Brits suffer from a variety of very British problems --

VBPs -- concerning all aspects of talking to, or being in the vicinity of, other people.

Our climate keeps us enclosed indoors, so we value our personal space, and nowhere is our personal space more encroached upon than on public transport.

You've made yourself really small and then you get that person that just sits right ON you. Do you know what I mean?

And you're like... "Why are you so close to me?"

You look around and there's a lot of people in the same position but no-one's actually saying, "Excuse me, you've still got a whole piece of seat that you could have. Could you move up?"

No-one does it.

And it's not just physical contact -- even eye contact is to be avoided.

When you're on public transport, it's such a confined space that you're going to be making eye contact with someone, so you've got to just look around the person, and then you just look like a bit of a nutcase doing this with your eyes, just looking around everywhere.

And then when someone's dazed or half asleep in the morning, they're just kind of gazing at you and then you look away, look back, and they're still looking at you.

You think, "This guy's... I'm going to get k*lled when I get off this tube. I'm going to get followed to the woods. Why's this guy staring at me?"

To more outgoing nations, a bus or train journey is the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation and turn a stranger into a friend.

Visitors to Britain tend not to realise this is not the case here, and their well-intentioned attempts to chat simply make us anxious.

It's not appropriate to start a conversation on public transport in England.

You're on the train, or the bus, or the tube and there's complete silence.

If you spark up a conversation with someone, people look at you like you've lost the plot.

It's like, "Who's this guy talking to me?"

If someone sits down beside you on the bus and tries to speak, there's a small chance they might start masturbating.

The best way to ensure your train journey is not made a living hell by having to touch, see or talk to anyone is to secure the perfect seat.

And for that you need to move quickly, confidently and ideally with some sort of prop that suggests purpose.

When people are on trains and they've got a bag on a seat, that's...

I think that's unforgivable. - That's me.

Oh...

I don't want you sat there!

I always look for a table of four and then I just spread everything everywhere.

I'll take a big jacket I don't need on purpose and put that on one seat, I take a bag and put it on another seat, and on the one next to me, I'll just be, like, lounging all over it, because I don't want anybody sitting with me.

'Travel first class on the railway.

'Seats can be reserved.'

A very British solution to getting a good seat is to reserve one, but an allocated seat can also mean an allocated person to confront.

If I get on a train and someone's taken my reserved seat, rather than confront them, I would actually rather just stand for the journey.

Of course, we're furious.

But unlike our more passionate Continental neighbours, Brit rage must remain, at all times, internal, along with our self-loathing for not being assertive, guilt about making the seat-occupier feel awkward, and embarrassment in case anyone notices any of this.

I was getting the train to Manchester, and it was packed, and we had two reserved seats, me and my mate.

And we got to the reserved seats, and it was that or stand up, and there was an 80-year-old couple sat in our reserved seats... - Ooph...!

.. and we didn't say anything.

Would you have said anything? I was too polite to say anything.

Well... - Then he clocked what had happened.

And then, at one point, he just took out a tenner and tried to give it to us.

I'd have taken the tenner!

Would you?!

I'd have taken the seat.

Would you?

Thing is, I've got... I'd have played the disability card and said, "Look, mate, it's 50/50 on this one, isn't it?"

In certain circumstances, Brits will overlook a case of blatant seat-theft with no qualms whatsoever.

This occurs when the instinct for self-preservation takes our fear of confrontation to new heights.

Once I was coming back from Edinburgh to London and there was three lads about my age and a pit-bull and a bucket of KFC.

And I was like, "Just let 'em have it."

Do you know what I mean?

Thought, "I'll just leave that." Just move on.

The most sought-after seats are tucked away in the haven of the quiet coach.

Most Brits treat the quiet coach with the reverence it deserves, like a favourite church or the best loo at home.

But not all of them.

One thing that really gets on my nerves is when I'm sat on a quiet coach of a train and someone is making a lot of noise.

The rules of the quiet coach are simple -- it does what it says on the coach.

Yet the tranquillity of this very British idyll is routinely broken by one type of passenger in particular.

I never use me phone on a train. I just can't do it.

I've kind of pinned it down to the people who do have loud conversations on their mobiles, and they're this kind of middle management people.

You don't get... poor people bellowing down the phones, you don't get rich people...

It's that kind of middle...

It's people that are new to business who say, "I can put that patio in, "and I'll have it done by the end of the week."

They might as well just stand up in the train and say, "Everybody, I lay patios."

"If you didn't know already."

In such situations, Brits are sticklers for the rules being enforced, but always by somebody else, lest we risk drawing any sort of attention to ourselves.

No, I'd never tell anyone to be quiet, no.

I never say anything because I'm always too British and too polite to say anything, so I'll just tut or I'll take out my phone and I'll tweet to vent my anger so that everyone knows, who follows me on Twitter, that I'm angry, but also everyone knows I'm not man enough to say anything.

Very occasionally, though, the stars align and a leader emerges.

I love it when someone kind of does something a bit un-British and kind of says something.

Once I was on a train and someone was talking on the phone and this elderly woman got up, and walked down and went to him...

"Excuse me, this is the quiet coach. You're going to have to go outside."

And he went.

And I wanted to high-five that old woman. She was brilliant.

I was like, "Yes! Someone has finally spoken up!"

I didn't say anything to her, obviously, because I was British, I just went... And that was it.

But, yeah, she was my hero for the rest of that journey.

But no matter in which coach you're sitting, there's one transport transgression that we British find it particularly hard to forgive.

People eating hot food on public transport are the worst example of humanity.

An annoying passenger speaking loudly on the phone offends only one of your senses, but if they're eating, you have to hear them, see them, and put up with whatever smell they're wafting.

Oh! It should be illegal like it is in Singapore!

I was on a train fairly recently and a bloke was behind me...

I was thinking "How many times can a man fart? Constantly."

Then I turned round and he was just peeling a boiled egg.

Quite brazenly.

So, yeah, I'd never eat on a train.

I just wouldn't want people to think that badly of me.

Since the golden age of the days of steam, Britain's rail network has been the envy of the world.

And if you're able to spend your journey with nobody sitting next to you, no need to confront anyone about their behaviour, and in complete silence... Well, easy to see why.

So far, we've been looking at the problems faced by the Brits when sensibly trying to avoid other people.

Incredibly, this becomes more complicated the closer we are to home.

80% of Britons now live in towns and cities.

We love the idea of a close-knit community.

If only we knew how to talk to our neighbours.

I have spoken to my neighbours.

I'm a bit of a freak like that.

It's important to know one side and that side and then after that, you're kind of on nodding terms and then everything else is just unknown.

You don't kind of...

I think the mark of a lunatic is getting to know everyone in the street.

If someone's in their front garden you're allowed to talk to them... that's OK.

But knocking on someone's door, that's quite a thing to do.

If you go and knock on a neighbour's door, your house better be on fire.

Anything more cosy than an arm's length relationship only brings more problems.

My neighbour cooks for me and I always find one of the most difficult things being, when do you take the plates back?

That really... Like, sometimes I'll have a plate and I'll know that if I go round that I'll have to talk to them about some other kind of local community thing, so I'll keep the plate, but then the plate will play on my mind.

Oh! It's exhausting, isn't it? It's just easier to just stay in the house and be one of those people that, like, when you do a m*rder, the only thing they knew about you was that they'd seen you putting your bin out.

Yes, the best way to enjoy the community you live in is to stay indoors at all times.

Of course, you could always ask people round, but why would you do that?

The Spanish love to use the phrase, "Mi casa es su casa."

There is no exact English translation for this, or not one that we are willing to comprehend.

Instead, there is one extremely loaded phrase we British use on our house guests.

When I say make yourself at home, I don't mean it.

"Honestly, just make yourself at home."

Just to be clear, that is not what I mean.

I mean, "This isn't your home."

"Make yourself at home," is like the worst thing someone can say, because that really means, "Be really careful. Take your shoes off. Don't put your feet on the couch or my table, and be careful of everything you do."

In 1623, it was enshrined in law that a man's house is his castle, but while the days of having to fortify our property like we did in the civil w*r are long gone, we still need to protect its sanctity with certain rules.

Rule number one concerns the great British fridge.

There's something very, very strange about the person that opens your fridge. Have you had that?

Have you had the person come round and just open your fridge?

And it's like, "What do you think this is, MTV Cribs?"

I'm not gonna... You know, like...

"Yeah, I'll just grab a drink. So, what's going on?"

Stutters: You can't take a drink from my fridge, you've got to ask me!

And then I will say the phrase, "Help yourself."

And you will then say, "No, no, I can't," and I'll go, "Sure," and by that point, we're fine because I know that you're legit and OK.

The person who just... "Yeah, so what's been going on?"

WHOA!

That's my fridge, that's my juice. Put it back and leave.

Never see me again. That's it, gone. Cut out, finished.

Rule number two of British hospitality is about respecting the TV.

One my wife's friends and her fella had come over to stay and, like, he was eating all the breakfast stuff and it really annoyed me, and he had the cricket on my telly, and I felt like going, "One -- put that breakfast away. Two -- get that crap off of my TV. This is a Sky Sports News house in the mornings. Lindsey should have told you this already. I feel, you know, there's been..."

But you didn't say anything?

No, I just had to sit there and watch him eat all my bacon and stuff like that, and then watch some of the first test, or whatever it was.

Sounds brilliant.

Oh, it was horrendous.

But the most important rule to remember if you've been granted entry to a British home, is to leave promptly.

House guests who outstay their welcome can put a British host in a very awkward situation.

I don't mind someone coming over for one night.

Two nights, you're pushing it. Three, you've got no chance.

It's just... it's people in your house.

You know, you go everywhere and you see people, where your house is your house, I just want to relax.

If I want to walk round my house in my underpants, I want to walk round in my underpants.

I don't need the pressure of having people around to see that, or worry about talking to people in my house, or keeping a conversation.

Or sat there and you've got something on telly and you've got to consider what other people want to watch.

If I want to watch Storage Wars or something, I can watch that.

How do you get rid of people?

Because you can't just go, "Erm, actually, can you all leave now?"

If it was acceptable to say, "We'd love to have you round for dinner, but at 10.30, regardless of where we are in the meal, you are going to say, 'Well, we should be heading off'."

After the Cup Final, my mate was there, he was at my house until, like, eight o'clock the next day and it's like, fair enough you're hungover, but you've been at my house all day!

Yeah, I think you're kind of...

You get up when you stay at someone's house.

Pleasantries -- piss off.

Yeah, pleasantries -- let's quickly recall some of the funnier moments from last night.

Yeah, let's have a cup of tea, watch Sunday Brunch and talk about why we don't like Tim Lovejoy and then we can all leave.

(He laughs)

If guests fail to observe the unspoken check out time of "as soon as possible", the Brits are once again forced to use codes and hints in a bid to dislodge invaders with the minimum of social awkwardness.

I would probably say something like, "Listen, erm...

"I've had such a lovely evening, but I'm gonna have to go to bed."

Round about elevenish, I'll start saying -- if it's the winter --

I'll start saying, "Oh, the central heating will be turning itself off quite shortly."

In extreme circumstances, braver, more exasperated Brits will confront malingerers head on, but this is very much a last resort.

I have known my father to say, "John, I'm very tired now, I'm going to bed, I think you should leave."

I go, "It's 11.15."

I could blow a whistle, I suppose. That would be useful.

That's not a bad idea.

If you decide to throw caution to the wind and go round to someone else's house, British politeness means you must, of course, offer to help.

Many would prefer to watch this sort of thing, but you'd be surprised at the number who are ready to have a sporting try.

We say stuff to be polite, but we don't really mean it.

It's like when I go to my wife's mum and dad's, like, the first few times, I'd always offer to wash up just so I've been seen to offer, but if she'd have turned round and gone to me, "Oh," and you'd cr*ck on, I'd have been absolutely devastated.

I am the king of, "Let me help with this.

"No, no, no, you sit down. Let me help with this," and then taking everything from the table and just placing it near the sink... and then just walking away.

That's it. That's my... That's essentially...

And then you almost want to go, "Just to be clear, all I was helping with was the movement of these, that's it."

"Let me help. No, no, no. Hey. Sit down you, you've done enough, I'll take care of this."

Maybe a tea towel over the top and hope that they don't notice you didn't do it till you've left.

If you're invited to the home of your business contact, assume it's a business or lounge suit, unless you're told it's black tie or dinner jacket.

Wear a black one, you can hire them very easily.

If you've been so helpful that your host has offered you a bed for the night -- beware!

I hate it when they claim they've got a bed and then it's an air bed, or something like that. - Yeah.

That's totally unacceptable. I don't...

If you have to sleep in their sitting room and then they get up and they start acting like it's a normal morning, like, "This is my bedroom. Legally, this is my bedroom now.

"Until I make the decision to get up you're not allowed in." - Yeah.

So given how much we Brits hate all forms of social interaction, you'd think the thing we'd look forward to most would be saying goodbye.

But no, we can't even do that with any sort of competence.

The Italians are such a friendly people, they don't bother with a word for goodbye.

They just begin and end all conversations with, "Ciao."

Of course, things aren't that simple in Britain.

When you both agree that you'll wind down the conversation, this is on the phone or in person, you then go through a ritual that takes forever.

"Great. OK, let's maybe speak next week."

"Yeah, OK, I'll give you a call."

"Oh, this has been so great. Thank you so much. I'll see you soon."

"Listen, have a great weekend. No, you too, have a brilliant weekend."

"No, no, no. Yeah, 100%. Well, you send me that e-mail and then I'll...

"Yeah. Thank you."

And then when they hang up, they say this goodbye... in a way that makes it sound like their car has just... gone off a bridge.

"Byeeeeeee! Byeeee! Byeeee!"

"Bye-bye. Bye. Bye. Bye."

And it leaves you on the other end thinking, "I think that person just d*ed."

The trick to saying an effective goodbye is to plan an escape route and stick to it. Otherwise, you could find yourself having to carry on the conversation on the move.

What's weird about goodbyes is when, say like, if you're leaving, like, a bar or something, and you say goodbye, and then they walk in the same direction as you.

It's like, what do you do?

I've actually just walked away from my car, like two roads, two streets, because I'm like, "Well, we did it. We already did it."

What are we gonna do? Say bye again and then realise, oh, I'm parked right next to you... you know?

I have done, in the past, when I've just waited about ten, 15 seconds for them to leave and then walked behind them like a weird stalker.

Just because you've said goodbye doesn't mean it is goodbye.

At best, it's the beginning of the end.

I left my in-laws' house the other day.

We said goodbye in the house, that took about 20 minutes and then we all got outside, we said goodbye again.

Then we got in the car, we wound down the windows, we said goodbye again and then as we drove away, we had to slow down, wave, honk the horn and shout goodbye again.

I must have said goodbye to them about 78 times.

I'm seeing them again on Tuesday.

So what have we learnt about the basics of very British problems?

As soon as one British person encounters another one, we find social awkwardness at every turn, from saying hello to saying goodbye.

We've developed clever ways to avoid each other, but that can lead to even more problems and do not open James Corden's fridge uninvited!

Next time, we'll be looking at some more complicated VBPs, including going to work.

Anyway, I better be off.

I'll see you next week. This has been fun though!

Bye!

Yeah... Have a great week!

OK.

♪ So Sally can wait ♪
♪ She knows it's too late as she's walking on by ♪
♪ My soul slides away ♪
♪ But don't look back in anger ♪
♪ Don't look back in anger ♪
♪ I heard you say. ♪
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