Before I begin, I’d like to preface by clarifying that I don’t have legitimate beef with The Guardian, it just so happens that they tend to publish things I deeply disagree with. And when these disagreements occur, I’m obliged to respond. This has previously happened on two occasions—once when I had to defend Greta Gerwig and another time when I made a case for Gen Z’s right to romanticise life—and I fear it’s about to happen again.
On Wednesday 18 September 2024, The Guardian released an article titled The rise of Britishcore: 100 experiences that define and unite modern Britons. In the piece, writer Dylan B Jones listed dozens of so-called quintessentially British tidbits. And as someone who has lived in the UK since birth, I can wholeheartedly say that 90 per cent of the experiences featured in that list were total and complete bollocks.
For example, number four was listed as “Having a mate called Danny whose nickname is Danzo, ‘cuz he’s the king of Lanzo’.” Oh, and number 32, “Referring to Buckingham Palace as ‘Bucky P’ or ‘Bucko Pal’.” Now that’s just weird. Don’t even get me started on number 40: “Falling asleep on a bench in a children’s playground in Bedford.” That one sounds a lot more like the start of a true crime documentary than a shared British experience.
So, this is my opportunity to make things right. I’m going to create an authentic list, Gen Z style. This take is going to be genuine and reflect common shared experiences that unite those of us who grew up in this high-key problematic yet at times tragically hilarious country. I’ve also taken the time to reach out to friends and fellow Brits to make sure my list covers as many areas as possible. Yeah, you’re welcome.
Also, in true British fashion, there’s no way I’m going to actually be recreating a list with 100 points to it. Let’s be real, who has time for that? With that in mind, let’s get into it.
Spoiler: this list is mainly targeted towards my fellow Gen Zers. Apologies in advance to all the Gen Alphas out there, I will not be including moments that reference Skibidi Toilet or a Level 10 gyatt. Soz.
First things first, let’s get some obvious ones out of the way. I’d be wasting both your time and my own if I explained in detail why quintessential classic moments such as Come Dine With Me’s “What a sad little life Jane,” and Gemma Collins’ “I’m claustrophobic Darren” are obvious choices.
Instead, why don’t we revisit some primary school nostalgia. Can I get an “amen” for the endless amount of Christian lyrics permanently etched into my brain?
“Fruit Winders being elite after-school snacks.”
“Having your school shoes measured at Clarks with the strangest contraption ever.”
“Swapping stickers and Scoubidou bands.”
“Yellow sponge cake with sprinkles and Neapolitan ice cream.”
“Knowing all of the words to ‘Shine Jesus Shine’.”
Let’s also quickly shout out an experience I know a lot of us can relate to. I am of course talking about the transformational time in a child’s life when you graduated from sitting on the floor in morning assembly… to sitting on one of the big kid benches at the back of the hall.
And while I know not all Brits went to university, can we also just appreciate the fact that quite a few of us out there will relate to these precious adolescent moments:
“Going to your university’s freshers’ fair, only to quickly grab your allocated free slice of Domino’s pizza and promptly leave.”
“Spending way too much time in the following clubs: Pryzm (may she rest in peace), Tiger Tiger, and Revolution, aka Revs.”
“Seeing a minimum of three rats a week somewhere near your student accommodation.”
“Break out rooms—I don’t even want to get into the horror of these torture sessions.”
“Forever claiming that your uni’s Student Union was objectively the best in the UK.”
The Guardian’s list’s biggest flaw (aside from the fact that half of it makes zero sense) is that it doesn’t get to the heart of the British experience. The writer was evidently so concerned with providing the most niche statements of all time that he missed out on properly capturing the British spirit. We don’t need reminding that some Brits “spend double the amount of money on a holiday to Cornwall as on a holiday to Portugal.” We want reminding that to qualify as a UK resident, you need to have a very strong opinion on which Christmas chocolate tub is the best.
“Equating wasting food at the dinner table to a legitimate cardinal sin.”
“Eating baked beans on toast, all the time.”
“Getting a Terry’s chocolate orange in your stocking at Christmas.”
“Going to Sainsbury’s with your parents solely so you could wear your Heelys and take advantage of the shiny smooth floors.”
“Legitimately believing that a full English breakfast can cure anything.”
It would be impossible for me to sum up all of the things that make up the hectically messy tapestry that is the shared British experience. However, I can confirm a few things. Being British isn’t about “referring to a Tesco hoisin duck wrap as ‘world cuisine’,” as The Guardian likes to think. Being British is about respecting the queuing system as if your life depended on it. It’s about the collective chant of “fancy a cheeky Nandos?” after experiencing the most minor of inconveniences. It’s the little things, you know?
As I mentioned earlier, the UK is a complicated place. But I would be lying if I said that these little British-isms don’t make me happy. In such a politically chaotic and unstable era, it’s nice to hone in on those mini moments that can remind us how alike we truly are.