The very best and worst of British

You know you’re at Wunderman’s ‘Best and Worst of British’ party when…

“You get talking to Vicky Pollard about strategies for getting home by tube without getting beaten up, or worse.”
“You’re asked for the third time, ‘you want chilli sauce with that, boss?’”
“You’re strangely attracted to the dirty old man who just flashed you.”
“You see Geoff Boycott part the dance floor, like Moses parted the Red Sea, and hit a perfect cover drive.”
“You see five Amy Winehouses in less than a minute.”
“You’re dressed as a six foot carrot.”
“You still can’t work out who the Stig is.”
“You realise the Stig is a woman.”
“You’re dancing with a jar of Bovril and bottle of HP sauce.”
“Your CEO is trying to sell you stuff out the back of his three-wheeled van.”
“The fake Scary Spice is scarier than the real one.”
“Fish and Chips are eating fish and chips.”
“The Beatles are mobbed by the Spice Girls.”
“Chavs and punks dance arm in arm.”
“The worst seems to outweigh the best.”
“Everywhere you turn there is a chav.”
“Even at a company party you still get a guy holding a golf sale sign and another telling you not to be a sinner.”
“There’s a samurai armed with a camera.”
“You’re comparing dodgy tattoos with a sunburnt, string-vest-wearing Brit Abroad.”
“Two oversized British bulldogs are prettier than many of the party guests.”
“You spend 15 minutes comparing kebab-making techniques with Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall.”
“You’re mad that another Robin Hood showed up.”
“You see a massive Yorkshire pudding trying to fit through the toilet door.”
“Your colleagues are playing, ‘How many people can you fit in a telephone box?’”
“Your tube ride to get there smelt of onions and tomato sauce.”
“You see people popping sprouts on the dance floor.”
“You’re asked to look after a giant kebab.”