I kind of wish I had grown up in England. First of all, I would have a cool British accent, and then I could come to America and seduce everyone with my foreign wiles (there’s no way that works in reverse, right? American accents are just not sexy. But here’s hoping some hot rugby-playing Brits disagree with me). Secondly, I would have a cool British accent. And thirdly, I’d have a cool British accent.
No, but seriously, if there is anything I have learned from the obviously reliable sources of the Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging books and UK Skins, being an English teenager is the best thing ever. There are dance clubs you can actually get into without being eighteen, people pop MDMA like Tic-Tacs, and everyone’s parents are too busy
having bad teeth doing their own thing to notice any of the aforementioned activties.
I mean, maybe all my fictional sources are lying to me (GASP!), but it just seems a lot cooler than boring ol’ America, where the craziest thing I did in my teen years was get drunk at a field party. (Okay, that’s a balls-out lie, but I made my own crazy fun; it wasn’t just sitting around waiting for me like those spoilt Brits.)
Also, I’m not sure if I mentioned this, but THEY HAVE BRITISH ACCENTS. Which is cool.
Seriously, though, I want to go interview some British person who was once a teenager and ask them if all this is true. And then I would probably try to score some hard drugs off of them, probably for free, by saying American sayings and seducing them. (Hmm. Um, “Apple pie! Football, but not your kind!”) Welcome to the U. S. of A.