The One Thing British People Do Better Than Everyone Else   By Melvin Roosevelt, OBE, KFC  

The One Thing British People Do Better Than Everyone Else   By Melvin Roosevelt, OBE, KFC  

 
There isn’t a nation in the world that can touch the Brits when it comes to inefficiency. 
 
They make it look easy 
 
But make no mistake 
 
It ain't easy 
 
There is considerable craftsmanship and attention to detail required to construct and install a five and a half foot Costa ceiling. 
 
And don’t think for a moment there isn’t a great deal of design genius behind that testicle size sink 
 
Where the Chinese have tried and failed, the Brits have succeeded not only in creating roads no wider than a baby’s leg, but — and here is the real genius behind it— they allow cars to park on either side of their baby leg roads, thereby creating a situation where one must abandon their diesel stick shift golf cart size car altogether and walk, squeezing themselves through the narrow gauntlet of parked cars, extending their mind crushing daily commute by another seven hours 
 
I’ve been to Singapore and Japan. Germany too. And none of them have figured out how to get people out of the bathroom and into the hallway — perhaps even the dining room - to dry their hair. You know who has though right? You guessed it, mate. 
 
America can’t hold a candle to the Brits when it comes to making it nearly impossible to discuss a mortgage with someone at the bank. Admittedly, it took them decades of honing, crafting and fine tuning the system, but they finally nailed it. Their secret? First, have the mortgage guy work one day a month. Second, make sure his co-workers DO NOT know which day that is. Next, do not make his business cards available anywhere in the bank. And finally, in the event that someone is able to crack through the system and actually get in front of the mortgage guy, make sure he knows nothing about mortgages. 
 
Ah yes, the fruit imports. Now this is where British brilliance really shines. You see, the Brits travel as far away as possible to get their fruits, making sure the return trip takes so long that the fruits expire at the exact moment the plane’s wheels hit the runway. I’ve been out to Heathrow with a stopwatch and seen it up close, along with large groups of Chinese and German fruit importers, all of them scribbling in their notepads, shaking their heads in baffled admiration. 
 
And this is exactly why the rest of the world is trembling - yes, trembling - at the prospect of a post-Brexit Britian, when this ruthlessly ambitious island of mercantile precision is finally unshackled from German and Dutch dead weight and unleashed to feast upon the global competition, stomping on the heads of American and Chinese entrepreneurs, vacuuming up business from New York to Tokyo and devouring - in single, effortless bites - every last company on the planet earth  
 
God help us 
 
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