On not knowing anything

One thing you must learn in England is that you must never really larn anything. You may hold opinions - as long as you are not too dogmatic about them - but it is just bad fom to know something. You may think that 2 and 2 make 4; you may 'rather suspect it'; but you must not go further than that. Yes and no are about the two rudest words in the language. (p. 163)

Everybody is Hungarian

... The prize for good educational work, however, must o to another Hungarian matron who was travelling on a #2 bus from Baker Street, meaning to get off at Platts Lane. She missed her stop, however. Reaching Cricklewood Lane and finding the surroundings unfamiliar, she jumped up, walked to the conducto - a fine and honest cockney, born and bred - and said:
'Platts Lane? Erre? (pointing one way) Arra? (pointing the other).
читать дальшеThe conductor was a little taken aback by this pantomime and asked her:
'Platts Lane, lady? If you want Platts Lane...'
The lady shook her head vigorously. English was not a language to which she could listen with patience. She interrupted the conductor with some irritation:
'Platts Lane? Erre? Arra?'
The conductor raised his voice and tried again:
'Look, lady. I'm just trying ti tell you that...'
The lady interrupted again, this time quite peremptorily:
'Platts Lane: erre? arra?'
The conductor sighed and pointed backwards:
'Platts Lane? Arra!'

On the elegance of decay

It was not only that proverbial spiit of fairness that led th nation to this decision. There was another, equally good reason. To remain Top Nation would invitably have meant winning the eternal rat-race from time to time - prhaps quite often - and that the British cannot bear. The thing is to take part but not to win. You take part only and exclusively because without taking part you cannot lose. This is not the Nation of Vulgar Winners; this is the Nation of Good Losers (к слову о Каесиде ).

On clothes and a class-ridden society

Not long ago my blue raincoat was taken away in the Garrick Club by mistake by one of our noble lords - kys in th pocket and all - and I was left with the other man's blue raincoat - keys in the pocket and all. The noble lord wrote me a letter of apology: 'My omly excuse is that a Marks and Spencer raincoat resembles a John Collier raincot to such an extent...'

And as a conclusion:

Q. With all these splendid principles and lack of authoritarian traditions, isn't there a danger that the country will go to the dogs?
A. The country is going to the dogs. But this has always been a country of dog-lovers. So why worry?