FOR all the grief we give them, when I’m feeling generous, I don’t think the Brits are that bad.

Person to person, I’ve had a great deal of craic with them over the years.

I regard my English friends like precious vinyl records. I found them, among the hoards of others, and love them for all their little quirks and differences.

They still work for me, but they wouldn’t be for everyone. I’m sure they feel the same about me.

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Can’t be easy for them having Irish friends, when casual family history stories shared over a pint involve a house being raided in some comical way, done in their name and that of their gracious queen (had to Google the lyrics).

People are people, we’re bound by the same language (their fault), we eat similar food, we listen to similar music – I start to believe they’re not that different.

But this past week I was reminded that in certain times and ways, English people are not like any others on earth.

What tipped me over the edge was when I saw some poor reporter sent out to ask the public on camera what they thought of Prince Harry returning to........

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