Anglophile

Did you ever get the feeling that you woke up on the wrong side of the bed? I can top you. Every day, I wake up on the wrong side of the world. A longtime (perhaps even lifetime) Anglophile, I’ve always preferred Britcoms to sit-coms, the BBC to ABC. Cary Grant and Hugh Grant light my proverbial fire. I wouldn’t want to face a movie world without my dear Merchant-Ivory, Richard Curtis, and Mike Leigh. Without Monty Python, Blackadder, The League of Gentlemen, Ricky Gervais, Steve Coogan, Peter Cook & Dudley Moore, AbFab, Eddie Izzard, Stephen Fry, Simon Pegg, and other comedy geniuses too numerous to list here, life would be a darker and far less entertaining slog. Still, I’ve made my peace with my circumstance. My ancestors left the steppes of Russia for the promise of American freedom, and I accept that. I do.
But then I read this year’s list of BAFTA nominees.
It’s official. I do not belong here.
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