It was midnight and we were just walking home from the party, when a man cycled by. The thing that made it strikingly British was the fact that he did not use his hand to steer the bike but instead was happily muching away on a portion of fish and chips.
Now had this happened in Finland, the person wouldn’t had been able to even mount a bicycle, much less ride it without using his hands (Just think back to the kind of people that buy snack food Friday midnight. Exactly.) and his choice of food would’ve been either makkaraperunat (that’s potatoes with sausages) or a hamburger. The reason for this is, in my view, that no Finn in their right minds wants the aftertaste of fish on a morning after.
One has to bear in mind, tho, that Finns think nothing of having a garlic breath Saturday morning. I kind of dig it myself, don’t know why. Idiosyncrasies, I guess.
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