It’s no secret. I love you Brits and your television shows. It probably started with Helen Mirren and the fantastic Prime Suspect series. Because combining crime procedural with British storytelling and accents? OMG, I just wet my pants.
Unfortunately, the Wo does not share this devotional level of interest. Here’s a little snippet of last night’s conversation:
Me: “We have a Netflix movie.”
Him: “What is it?”
Me: “Hmmm, I don’t know. Let me check. ‘Harry Brown’.”
Him, now looking at me with a head tilt, with suspicion in his voice: “Sounds British.”
Me: “No, I don’t know, maybe, um…..”
Him, reading little envelope sleeve: “MICHAEL CAINE? Uh, yeah. Gritty vigilante thriller SET IN ENGLAND? Some dude named IAN? Anyone named IAN and it’s British.”
Me, (as if this is the first time we’ve ever discussed this): “So…… you don’t want to watch it?”
We started watching 30 Rock, Season 4 on Netflix streaming, instead. Excellent compromise.
And in the meantime, I’ve gotten my friend Tim hooked on MI:5 “Spooks”, which is STILL running across the pond in its 9th season, and I’m on Season 4. (Season 3 nearly killed me. KILLED ME. Gah. I shan’t say another word, but I am turning to the right with my stoic face.)
Oh, and Netflix, you bitch, you better get Season 5 up and streaming because the discs say “Very Long Wait” and I’ll want to beat you with a cricket bat if I have to go that route. And I KNOW I’ll be watching ’em by myself.
As a European American (aka white person), I happen to be largely of British ancestry. I love nearly everything British.