Now that I have begun to interact with the American public, I have realised that my British accent carries a lot of weight. I have had so many people saying to me recently: “you have a lovely accent,” usually followed by wistful memories of the day they spent in London, lunching with the Queen or whatever. Nevertheless, it is true that people do respect it here, even if they really shouldn’t. A woman at the train station told me that British people are more intelligent than Americans, simply because their accent makes them sound more intelligent, which is utterly ridiculous. She obviously hasn’t spent much time in the pubs of Burnt Oak (though she kinda smellt as though she had).

And that’s the thing – I actually put on a different accent when I speak to people here. I don’t necessarily mean to, but I’ve trained myself over the years to drop the glottal Cockney accent as much as possible when speaking to foreigners, as I know how hard it is for them to understand. Yet perhaps I have gone too far. I catch myself sometimes, prattling on like some period drama English fop, far more Hugh Grant than Grant Mitchell, and cannot believe what I’m hearing. However, there are times when I cannot believe what they are hearing.

Such as on Saturday, when a lady in the bookstore asked if I was from Britain, and I said I was. She said, “I thought so; I have a good friend from Scotland, and he sounds just like you.” You what?? How?!? “Don’t get me wrong,” I said to her, “I love the Scottish accent, in fact I wish I had one (I love it), but I do not sound anything like a Scot. Yer ‘avin’ a larf, inch-ya” I added, to prove my point. It didn’t prove my point, it only confused the poor woman. But surely we Brits do not sound all the same to Americans?

I admit I have abused my new-found British accent to make myself sound more authoritative and knowledgable, knowing that really it’s just all bullshit. I have yet to be cast in a Disney film as the Villain, a role which only ever goes to the classic British thesps, but I’m not really trying. The day will come when I tire of being told my accent is lovely, at which point I will either revert to my factory settings, complete with Watling Park style expletives, or I will tell them that I had a stroke. I remember a story a couple of years back that there were people in the US who, having suffered quite bad strokes, suddenly found they had British accents. That’ll give them something to talk about.