A few days back L coined the term ‘britster’ (like an Anglophile, but with more irony), and then was immediately horrified by what she had wrought and demanded that no one ever use that term again or allow it to become a thing. Unfortunately for her, I love a good portmanteau almost as much as I love drawing owls in bowler hats clutching Pims and tea and wearing deeply irritating t-shirts. Sorry, L. Much like the beat, you also can’t stop the thing.
I shall dedicate my life to promoting the thing. For L!
All hail!
Sent from my iPod