LISTS  The 14 Things You Will Find In A British Home   By Melvin Roosevelt, OBE, KFC 

The 14 Things You Will Find In A British Home   By Melvin Roosevelt, OBE, KFC 

 
1. Carpeted bathrooms 
 
2. A washing machine smaller than your alarm clock 
 
3. Children who can no longer tell a baseball bat from a golf club 
 
4. A crusty old father in law sitting in the corner of his American son in law’s closet size living room, whinging about the weather and how much a pint of beer costs while farting into his American son in law’s cloth recliner, the one that looked a hell of a lot nicer on Wayfair and arrived seven weeks late and was delivered by an unsmiling deliveryman who had the temerity to ask to use the loo and then tracked cigarette butts through the front hallway and left the toilet seat covered in genital hair. 
 
5. Wellies that are permanently caked in so much mud that one cannot plausibly discern their original color and, despite repeated pleas from her American husband, the wellies will never ever be cleaned and will sit at the front door as a constant reminder of how stupid it was to move from California to this shithole excuse of a country. 
 
6. A British mother in law who complains about the way her American son in law makes her tea and orders his children to eat their peas with an upside down fork? 
 
7. A dishwasher so mind bogglingly small it washes only three plates at a time. 
 
8. A neighbor kid named Harry!- fucking HARRY! Sitting at my dining room table again! Mr. Roosevelt do you have any cake? Mr. Roosevelt why don’t you guys have the new XBOX 36090978 X9 blah blah blah? Who names their fucking kid Harry anyway? In every other country in the world Harry is not a name it’s an adjective. A dumb unflattering one. As in, ‘look at that fat dude with the hairy back’ or ‘you know Amber - the girl with hairy armpits?’ Mr. Roosevelt, why don’t you guys this, why don’t you guys that...Listen you little hairy shit Harry! - Why don’t you go home and ask your parents why they named you HARRY? I mean, your Dad is a freaking half Greek. He looks like a goddamn grizzly bear! You think just maybe he would have considered the fact that his quarter Greek kid would turn out hairy too? Look at your fucking hairy unibrow Harry! Your hairy ears! And you’re only four years old! 
 
9. Rats that are permanently drunk on the beer that is spilled every Monday and Sunday by the Irish cleaning lady who steals from the suitcase sized refrigerator and gets away with it because the American is married to a Brit who is pathologically allergic to confrontation so not only does she not say anything to the drunk Irish thieving cleaning lady she actually keeps buying beer for her to steal. 
 
10. A kettle that never stops whistling. Never. Put the kettle on? Cup of tea? Put the kettle on? Let’s put the kettle on. Cup of tea? Who wants tea? Tea? Tea? Cuppa? Tea? I’ll go put the kettle on. Dad? Tea? Mum? Tea? NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! NOT ANOTHER CUP OF TEA FOR YOUR PARENTS! THEY WILL NEVER LEAVE!!!! What about you Harry? Tea? OH GOD I HATE THIS COUNTRY!!!!!!!!!!! 
 
11. Two Anglo-American kids that need to spend a month in a Fortnite addiction rehab facility, a business that might thrive but doesn’t even exist because this is England and nobody here possesses the requisite vision and entrepreneurial spirit to get it done and the tiny percentage that do take a pass because they’re totally demoralized at the prospect of paying 98 percent in taxes so what’s the fucking point? 
 
12. A £1,789 bill for a license to watch TV?? 
 
13. An MP campaign brochure for a politician who - in big bold font - claims he will shut down the third runway at Heathrow but his ability to do much of anything is called into question when the American homeowner notes that his brochure misspells Heathrow as “Heatrow”. 
 
14. A picture of a sunny California beach, its frame and glass broken to bits because its owner was so frustrated by the memories it brought to mind that he went totally ballistic one Saturday afternoon and smashed it over his own head and then drove along a skinny, one lane, mud and cobblestone road to the nearest A & E - one hundred and three miles away - where he sat in the waiting room for nineteen and a half hours before giving up and returning home and putting the kettle on and sitting in total silence with his broken bloody head and drank his first cup of tea and surrendered to the cold wet reality of his crap British life. 
 
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