glass of water

Since moving to Los Angeles the word ‘WATER’ has become my largest nemesis. It’s my Achilles heel. It’s my fatal flaw. Basically, it sucks.

Saying ‘Water’ in a British accent is like opening up a deep dark chasm. A chasm you will watch the next five to fifteen minutes of your life crumble into it and be powerless to stop it.

Where is my personal Gandalf to save me in communication chasms? Nowhere.

Maybe here.


(You’re wondering what he would look like without the beard aren’t you? I know. Weird)

Ordering water is one of those things that comes up a lot. Hydrating is you know, important for your health and stuff.

Especially for me because my weak British constitution still hasn’t handled the concept of intense burning sunlight quite yet. I’m a delicate English rose okay. (Ha. Delicate. As if I could swing that. Fine, I’m just a wimp.)

I’m perpetually sweating and dehydrated or shivering from artic AC levels. Growing up with an extremely mild, temperate climate has really damaged me, alright?

Uk weather

I can’t even avoid ordering water because I’ve just never really been into fizzy drinks. (That’s soda, pop, soft drinks. ie fun words. Apparently we decided to be painstakingly descriptive) Something about fun sugary drinks being banned from me as a child actually worked in the way it was meant to. Rare.

It’s silly because every time I ask for water I know I won’t be understood. Yet, I keep persisting. It’s a strange self-torturous escapade. Like BEING A WRITER. AM I RIGHT, YOU GUYS?!? (stand-up gold)

I persist mainly I think because saying one word in American and the rest British feels so weird.

If not for that I would totally say ‘y’all’ all the time because it’s brilliant but I’m just not cool enough.  A continual problem of being British in LA: really wanting to be able to use ‘Dude. No dude, seriously’ as an expression but knowing it’s never EVER going to work for you.

Although, eventually I relent. Because after the seventeenth time of saying ‘Water. A glass of water?’ the person is so compelled by the mystery of what you’re actually saying that you can only disappoint them.  You really have to soften the T and get on with your life.

And let them get on with theirs – knowing that meeting a British person in real life is way less exciting than watching Sherlock.

Or you know, meeting Benedict Cumberbatch. (We know he’s fun at parties)

Benedict Cumberbatch

Really though. Water’s not really something you can describe very successfully without the word ‘Water.’

What are you going to say?

‘It’s like a clear liquid and part of the determining cycle of life.’ Etc. Er, yeah no.

Besides then you would get the song ‘Circle of Life’ stuck in your head anyway and feel compelled to start singing that. Which – on balance is not that solution-orientated an approach on your important brunch meeting that will probably determine your entire career.

Suppressing the continual urge to sing The Lion King is hard enough when you’re not thirsty.

the circle of life

You’re singing now aren’t you? Of course you are. How could you not be. The circle of life is about to START!

On the up-side there’s always extended sessions of napkin-Pictionary or elaborate charades to try and communicate. ANY excuse to force word-games on large groups of strangers! But how many charming, ironic cafes do you want to get banned from in one month?

You can’t very well sit in your own house and write your screenplay – at least at a coffee shop you know that everyone else is also updating their blog instead of fixing that difficult scene with all the confusing emotions in it. You are, right?

And no trust me I haven’t forgotten about the option of  interpretative dance. Because believe me I’ve tried that too. And I’ve even got very specific experience on my side so we know that’s not the problem. That’s right I was ‘The River’ in a Primary (Elementary) school play aged seven.

(I played the triangle. It was haunting.)

And I should make it clear that I’m definitely NOT going to be that person that asks for ‘H2O’ in a restaurant. I mean maybe we all did it when we were 13 and first learning what elements were. But beyond that. Just, no. Have you ever heard that happen? Because I have. It was probably somebody I dated. Recently. I know, kill me.

So in future – if you don’t know what I’m saying. Hand me a glass of water. Even if it’s not what I was saying I’ll adore you forever more. Because it’s a safe bet that at any given moment I’m probably about to pass out from dehydration from spending thirty seconds in the heat.

glass of water2

No dude, seriously.

(No NAT no. Don’t say that. YOU HAVE TO RESIST. You will never be cool enough)

So yeah. You see what I mean.


Crumpets are magnificent. Here are two crumpets:


Have an eye-feast on that!

You see all those holes on top? That’s where all that butter will melt into in all of thirty seconds. So, uh oh, you spread on more and more. But wait a minute, you can’t be in the possession of the dish for longer than one knifeful, you have to pass it. But you also need to get another layer in. So you say ‘Please can you pass the butter again Lord Loverduck’ along with everyone else seated at the table (except Auntie Majorie. She wants the magarine, naturally. Leave her to her own business. It won’t taste the same.)  Then everyone tries to give up the butter dish to someone else in a sort of breakfast-related rugby scrum of politeness until no one takes it. Then you end up actually passing it to yourself because now it’s only just out of reach anyway and do you really mind if you put your entire sleeve in the jam, and so then you put on more.

This is a Rugby scrum:

rugby scrum

You just did that but with condiments.

Disclaimer: I only have a pretty basic knowledge of the complete rules of the game. But I did used to live in Cardiff, which is the capitol of Rugby-related binge drinking (and Wales.)  So I’ve certainly drunk to Rugby, which I think counts. And served drunks at Rugby matches (Drinks! Freudian slip. Obviously.)

And honestly I couldn’t think of a more accurate comparison to group crumpet eating. It is shockingly similar.

Now, you need to get the best goal you can–a try – in crumpet rugby. And it’s no small feat. Because here’s the top secret crumpet intel. They are a holding container for butter. This is the excuse you’ve been waiting for to essentially DRINK melted butter. I know.

This is why crumpets stay at the top of the league tables.

But you’ve got to get the butter fast because if your crumpet gets cold your butter will just lie there on top in a clump and there will be VISIBLE SIGNS OF YOUR BUTTERY SHAME before you bite it. You will see the reality of how much butter you’re about to eat and the game will be up. Your best bet is to go straight to the jam and move on with your life. A cold crumpet isn’t worth writing home about. Or to anyone about. Moving on quickly.

After you bite into it you’re home free. Your crumpet is hot property. Now you’re just dealing with ‘Oh my goodness I think I somehow accidentally put too much butter on this how foolish of me’ as the space from chin to neck becomes a waterfall of cholesterol. But who’s looking at your neck?! (Apart from you, creepy) You’re in the clear. Annnnnd that is a try in Crumpet Rugby my friend.

The other meaning of crumpet.  Quite fun. Get ready.  Although Creepy over there will enjoy it to so watch out. ‘A bit of a crumpet’ means a bit of a fittie. ie ‘Look at that hot piece of crumpet.’ It makes sense because like I said, crumpets need to be hot.

To illustrate my point – quite literally – take a look at this article about a picture of Pippa Middleton’s bottom made entirely out of crumpets:

Here’s the thing. You’re looking at 15,0000 cold crumpets. Almost unthinkable.

And yet, I would venture to say that most people would love to TRY and BUTTER her up.

And that’s my own personal try in Crumpet Rugby related puns. Yes! What is there left to achieve in life?