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91 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1966
One: tomorrow morning you will get into your car and take twelve and a half hours to cover a four-hour journey. The journey back will take you fifteen hours and the fumes will nearly choke you.
Two: when you reach your destination, you will queue up twelve times a day: three times for ice-cream, twice for deck-chairs, three times for beer, once for tea, twice for swings for the children and once just for the hell of it.
Three: whenever you feel unbearably hot, I order you to accept the additional torture of drinking hot tea.
Four: when it gets still hotter, you will drive down to the seaside and sit in the oven of your car, for two hours and a half.
Five: wherever you go, there will never be less than two thousand people around you. They will shout and shriek into your ear and trample on your feet and your only consolation will be that you, too, trample on their feet. There is no escape from them. You may try the countryside but the countryside, too, will be transformed into an everlasting Bank Holiday fairground, strewn with paper bags and empty tins and bottles. Furthermore, to add to your sufferings, I order you to take a portable radio everywhere with you and listen to ‘Housewives’ Choice’ and ‘Mrs Dale’s Diary’ incessantly!
If all this were meted out as dire punishment, proud, free Englishmen everywhere would rise against it as they have always risen against foul oppression. But as, on top of it all, they have to spend a whole year’s savings on these pleasures, they are delighted if they can join the devotees anywhere. Britain has been the marvel-country of the world for a long time. Many people used to regard her as decadent, decaying and exhausted until they learned better. How has Britain come out of her many trials, not only victorious but rejuvenated? The secret of the British is very simple: if they can endure their summer holidays, they can endure anything.
Englishmen in cars are prepared up to a point to obey traffic signals; but the very idea that an English pedestrian should wait for a green light is absolutely outrageous. The Englishman's right to walk under the wheels of a lorries was secured in Magna Carta and ours is not the generation to squander such ancient liberties.