IF NEWCASTLE IS ‘A REMOTE COMMUNITY’, HOW MIGHT THE REST OF THE UK BE DESCRIBED BY ONLOOKERS?

Cornwall The big toe of Britain is a land populated by a fiercely defensive people who speak, for historic and comic reasons, in faux-pirate accents. Their diet consists solely of meat-and-potato-filled croissants called pasties, and tiny, tasteless circular cakes cemented with jam and clotted cream (in that order; the reverse will see you exiled to neighbouring Devon, which is the fiercest punishment a Cornish person could inflict upon anybody). Cornwall – pronounced “Corrrrrrn-waaarrrlll” – has its own language, its own flag, and treats outsiders with suspicion unless they have lived there for approximately 50 years.

The Cotswolds Imagine the set of a Richard Curtis film, only stretched over 800 square miles and filled with the second homes of celebrities. Twee country houses, sheep, ye olde country pubs and more sheep dominate the landscape. Drive down one narrow, wildflower-strewn lane and you might bump into a supermodel in wellington boots (the traditional knee-high footwear of a British person expecting puddles); pop into an inn and you could easily see a former prime minister about to leave without realising he’s left his child behind; turn another corner and you’ll find Morris dancers, handkerchief waving middle aged men prancing around with bells attached to them like cattle. You can find anything in the Cotswolds, bar anybody who lives there all year round.

Cambridge You may wish to stop in Oxford on a visit to the Cotswolds, but considering it is busy producing a vaccine for the coronavirus at the moment, Cambridge is worth a look. There, you will find locals only have three ways of getting around: by vintage bicycle, on a basic gondola the British call a “punt”, or simply to float on one’s own academic prowess. Hang around for long enough and you’ll see children walk around dressed as miniature priests, before invading churches and breaking into perfect song. Be warned, though: if you thought Cornwall vs Devon was like Iran vs Saudi Arabia, that is small fry compared to the Oxbridge enmity. Mention the “O” word at your peril. Don’t bring an Oxford English Dictionary over the border. The rivalry is so strained that every year, the two towns battle for supremacy by putting their eight tallest, poshest men in a massive canoe and making them row for four miles up the Thames. It is barbaric.

Glasgow Legend has it that the people of Glasgow speak English, but you will not understand them and so do not attempt it. Instead it is best just to smile and nod. Accept their offer of an animal’s stomach filled with entrails, suet, oatmeal and spices, accompanied by a glass of bright orange soda that tastes of no fruit on Earth. Try not to stare at the men wearing skirts, and (for your safety), tell them you are a fan of both Celtic and Rangers. And if one of the skirt men produces a bag with table legs sticking out of it and begins to blow into it, emitting the sound of a cow sitting on a church organ, gently smile. Don’t ask a Glaswegian for a kiss.