Every so often the Economist Intelligence Unit produces a list of the best cities in the world, the places you’d most like to live. And it’s always wrong.
Last time around the winner was Vancouver, with judges saying the quality of life is good and the threat of terrorism low. I can add more. The cafes around the harbour are lovely, there’s a good mountain backdrop and the lap dancers are shaved and adventurous.
But while the chances of being stabbed or blown up are low, the chances of dying from boredom are extremely high.
And it’s much the same story in all the other cities favoured by The Economist: Vienna, Calgary, Perth, Zzzzzurich and so on.
They even found a few kind words to say about Singapore, where you can be beaten and subjected to intimate body searches, with chair legs, if you are found chewing gum.
I was therefore interested to read last week that academics at Cambridge University had conducted a survey to find the place in Europe where people are most “happy and contented”. That seems a much better basis for discovering what’s what.
Ireland came third, which isn’t surprising since they have all those juicy EU subsidies to spend on sleek furniture and nice cufflinks. Finland was second, and again, I understand why. There are many beautiful women up there, many of whom I like to imagine are lesbians.
But the winner I don’t get at all. Yes, a full eight places higher than Britain; the happiest, most contented place in all of Europe is . . . Denmark.
I see. So let’s say you live in Birmingham and, in a quest for happiness, you move to Copenhagen. On day one, you look at the little mermaid in the harbour. On day two, you have a snoop round Hans Christian Andersen’s house and on day four, having found nothing to do on day three, you go to the Oresund bridge . . . and jump off it.
No, really. If Denmark’s so great, how come the little mermaid is almost permanently missing one of its extremities? How bored do you have to be before you think: “I know. Let’s wade out into the harbour and decapitate a statue.” That doesn’t even happen in Grantham.
Apparently the main reason why Danes claim to be so happy is that they always expect life to be worse than it really is. They expect to be cold.
They expect to pay 95% tax. They expect to be decapitated by a gang of youths who’ve found the little mermaid has already had its head kicked off and are now looking for another target.
They are therefore delighted when they get home to find their family still have all their limbs, that the heating is working and that their tax bill’s been reduced to 94%.
There’s something in this. In Britain we expect everything to be rosy and we therefore live in a state of permanent disillusionment. Unlike the Danes, who are simply happy that their team are taking part in the World Cup, we expect ours to win it. And we go into a state of shock when we’re kicked out by the bloody Ports.
There’s more. The Danes know that in a bout of fisticuffs their navy would struggle to beat the Leander club. Whereas we think the Royal Navy could take on China and win.
We are therefore deeply disappointed to find our fleet is actually a fat bird in a rubber boat who sticks her hands up at the first sign of trouble and squeals like a piggy when someone steals her mate’s iPod.
I could go on. Throughout the world, Britain is known for its sense of fair play and honesty. Which is why we feel so let down when we read of a nationwide experiment in which items such as phones, keys and wallets were left lying around in various town centres. Fewer than half were handed in. In Birmingham just 16% of the items were returned.
In the same vein, we trust the BBC to provide a fair and balanced news service but every night, almost without fail, it gives us yet another shot of a soggy polar bear and yet another dire warning of what will happen if we don’t stop being middle class.
In essence, we British are in a difficult phase. For many, the days when we were the world superpower are still within living memory. Even I find it difficult to understand why Australians won’t stand up when they hear our national anthem and why the Indians won’t salute whenever a British Airways jet lands in Mumbai.
We still think we’re brilliant but today even the Americans are losing interest in us. Shortly after 9/11, George Bush said Britain was “America’s closest friend in the world” but a few days later he said: “We have no greater friend than Mexico.” And then, six months after that: “We have no better friend than Canada.”
I therefore believe that we cannot top the happiness charts until we accept that we’re just a small police state with a basically corrupt government, a useless cricket team and no chance at all of winning the Eurovision contest because it turns out most of our musicians are closet Nazis.
If we think we’re rubbish, we won’t be disappointed when it turns out we are.
In the meantime, we can take some comfort from last week’s food scare. Bacon, a product for which Denmark is famous, can apparently cause lung disease and may well be one of the biggest killers in the world.
That should wipe the smile off their faces.
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