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Britain doesn't just love queueing — we've elevated it to a civic religion with no god, no doctrine and no exit strategy. I joined four queues in one Saturday to find out what, exactly, we were all waiting for. The answer, universally, was nothing.
Nobody teaches us the rules, yet we all know them. From the jet bridge ovation to the 'cheers driver' whisper, this is an anthropological survey of the British clapping instinct — and why it might be our greatest national achievement.
Britain never learned to talk about feelings, so we planted them. A road trip through the nation's most eccentric traffic islands — the model villages, the floral feuds, the roundabouts with names — and what they reveal about us all.