Blaise Tapp: The one place us Brits should never queue is down the pub
There are many things that us Brits are well known for across the world although not all of them are to be shouted about.
Putting the incredibly tricky issue of colonialism, not to mention Brexit, to one side, there’s our music - everyone across the globe has heard of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and, now that they’ve finally cracked America after 30 years of trying, Oasis. The Premier League lives up to its own billing of being the best football league around while approximately one in five of the world’s population speaks English, meaning that many of us haven’t made a genuine effort to crack another language.
However, there is one thing that we are genuine world beaters at and that is the art of queueing. There’s simply no other nation that can touch us when it comes to waiting our turn for lifts, at supermarket checkouts and hotel buffets, which can cause us a disadvantage when visiting countries where free-for-all is the order of the day. This doesn’t really matter, especially when we can take the moral high ground and mutter, politely of course, about the bad manners of others.
For as long as anyone can remember, as a nation, we’ve formed an orderly queue in almost every setting, with one notable exception - the British pub. It does appear, however, that things are beginning to change in some pubs and bars, with a line of would-be drinkers snaking around these establishments. Apparently, this is something that four in 10 of us are happy about, which of course means that more than half of the supping public would rather drink an alcopop through a straw while sitting under the dart board.
While I’m a committed queuer, the idea of not being able to stand wherever I please at the bar is something that makes my six quid pint that little bit harder to enjoy. Yes, there have been times when I’ve questioned my life choices while waiting for a drink - I stood for a good 20 minutes without any hint of getting served a couple of months back but there is something weirdly communal about being jostled by equally fed up punters while waiting to be relieved of £30 for a round. I’m not sure that I would be prepared to swap the adrenalin rush of finally getting served, for waiting in a neat line, like I was waiting for a skinny latte.
Social niceties very much have their place and it’s not in the pub.