Come to Canada . . . and freeze your butt off!

Philip Delves Broughton glances across the Atlantic to Canada — and sneers:

Despite banging its own drum for decades, calling on the world to gather on its shores, Canada still looks like one of those poor young girls at a trade show, thrusting flyers at disinterested passers-by.

It is the big, earnest, empty restaurant which can't understand why the scrappier joint next door is hopping. People just do not want to go.

[. . .]

Culturally, Canada does not hold a candle to Britain. Its museums and orchestras are resoundingly second tier, though it may have an edge in country music festivals.

This is, after all, the home of Shania Twain, whose full-throated warblings make Dolly Parton sound sophisticated.

In the dramatic arts, Canada's greatest recent contribution - unless you include Jim Carrey and Pamela Anderson — is the incomprehensible, semi-nude contortion act of Cirque du Soleil. And as for its newspapers, they are lifeless and hobbled by the provincialism which divides the country.

[. . .]

Sure, Canada has been through a food revolution similar to Britain's, but still the way to a Canadian's heart is not through fancy Newfoundland oysters, but with 'poutine' — chips smothered with cheese curds and gravy. It makes a chip butty look like the healthy option.

[. . .]

Ah yes, hockey. If you thought British sport was becoming crude and violent, try watching two teams of toothless brutes sliding around on ice and pausing every few minutes to beat the daylights out of each other. It makes the Premiership look like synchronised swimming.

However bad Britain may seem, trust me, moving to Canada is not the answer. Why not try somewhere more appealing. Siberia, for example.

"It's a fair cop, guv."

It's easy to understand why civilized, educated people would not want to come out to the colonies. Why, the servant problem alone is enough to drive you mad! And the weather is terrible, unlike the perfect weather we have at home. And worse, you're likely at any moment to be overrun by Cousin Jonathan and his fascist hordes. Better stay at home, where the loving eyes of the surveillance cameras can keep a better eye on you.