Jeremy: Well, I guess that’s that, isn’t it? And how about Lew, eh? He’s a real charmer. You’d think he was British, too, with that goodbye gesture. Not saying that Brits aren’t charmers. I’ve known quite a few British charmers in my day… Well, actually I only currently know one. And he’s probably reading this comic thinking, “Aw, I never knew I made that kind of impression on Jeremy. Perhaps some day we will meet in the middle of the Atlantic, waving to each other from two passing ships in the sunset…”
Great, now I want to get on a boat and travel to Britain. Who’s with me?
Jeff: Ooo! Ooo! I am! Of course, I would go to Britain undercover. Last time I was there, and no, I’m not making this up, I was riding the train (tram? metro? faugh, whatever. That thing that reminds you to “Mind the gap.”), wearing fairly decent clothes, and an older fellow (i.e., “bloke”) sat down next to me. A moment later, a gaggle (verily, yea, a gaggle) of American high school students clambered aboard, yelling at each other, chucking paper balls, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Oldy McBlokerton next to me leans over slightly and mumbles to me, “Bloody obnoxious Americans, eh?”
What did I say? Really, the only thing I could say in response to that: