The British Invasion

For a while New Yorkers were threatened by bedbugs. Then there were the Beatles. Now young British women wearing spikey calf high boots are the latest pest that Manhattanites have to deal with. Their provenance may not be upper class, but they almost always speak with haughty upper crust accents whose subtext simply stated is, "while I preen myself to attract the attention of men, I will bite of the balls of the average bumbling American male." Americans have already spent billions cleaning up after Katrina and Sandy and they'd be spared considerable extermination if the present scourge could be stopped at the borders (remember the Saturday Night Live skit based on Roach Motel, "Roach Brothel?") Let's not let any more good looking British girls wearing spiky boots or shoes cross our borders and those who persist should be sent to the same centers where thousands of illegal immigrants are detained. An inadvertent benefit of locking up some of these gals would be a lessening of their hauteur. Of course, there's poetic justice in deportation. An English woman out of her element is actually like meeting a character in a movie, but at home she's pretty much like everyone else. There's nothing special about speaking the King or Queen's English in England, but in America even Eliza Doolittle would be treated like an aristocrat.

{This was originally posted to The Screaming Pope, Francis Levy blog of rants and reactions to contemporary politics, art and culture}