Champagne and Mushy Peas

As I get used to the idea of leaving my beloved Sweden, at least for a while (more about that later), I try to come to terms with potential life in the UK - the land that traditionally Australians behold as the butt of bad-teeth and cricket jokes, and, if we are to be fair, progenitor of such classics as Blackadder and The Young Ones. Tonight I had a Monday champagne or two (oh how I will miss those overpriced champagnes) with Angus and Clara. Angus lives in London, and we came up with the idea of a fantastic restaurant, where we would serve very classy champagne, and then ask "Would you like a bag of chips with that darling?" in a horrible Cockney accent, while dishing up radioactively green mushy peas, sausages (including vegetarian options) and for the Swedish, my favourite rice porridge (maybe even extending to the oat variety for Scots). I have agreed to cultivate the most horrendous British accent (which Angus thinks I already have, judging by the way I pronounce "pasties") and use it at blatantly inappropriate moments (such as when ordering pasties). Still, I am rather heartbroken at the prospect, and have already booked a series of Swedish lessons since my lack of Swedish seems to be hindering me here immensely, in the hope that one day I can sweep back in and shock some kind of million dollar contract out of Sony Ericsson. I guess only time will tell, but right now, I'm stocking up on as much Swedish cuisine as possible. I might even see if the local ICA supermarket has a few hundred bottles of glögg left in the basement...