When thinking about Britain, one is often bombarded with many preposterous stereotypes. For example, everyone is somehow related to the Royal Family; since Britain has a population of over 63 million this is not the case. In fact, there are only around 20 people in the United Kingdom who bear the title 'Your Highness' or 'Your Majesty' and around a further 70 who can claim to be members of the extended Royal Family or Royal Household; so it's a reasonably exclusive club.
A lot of people tend to think of the British as being somewhat 'rude', what with our snobby attitudes and posh accents and large mansions in the country and butlers and whatnot (we all have these by law), it's also pretty much factual that we tend to say sorry a lot. Move past somebody on the street and come a little too close to them? "Oh, sorry." Complaining about something in a situation where you've been wronged? "I'm so sorry." We can't help it, it's simply centuries upon centuries of breeding and hard-core etiquette lessons.
It's innate, we just can't help it.
However one stereotype is 100% true and will forever continue to stand the test of time.
Britons are completely obsessively in love with tea. It is sewn into our cultural identity as an iconic part of being British. Tea makes everything better; it can mend a broken heart and can stop world wars. Tea is love. Tea is life. So with this stereotype being anything but fiction, one can imagine the uproar what would occur should one insult this sacred and historical treasure.
"How DARE you! Get off of me this instant! I demand to speak to a solicitor! No, no I wish to speak to the British Embassy! In fact I demand a trial by combat! Someone bring me a duelling pistol!" The young girl shrieked whilst thrashing about violently against the poor, unsuspecting passer-by that had somehow come to be in charge of detaining her.
Sokka watched with wide eyes, his face contorted with profound confusion; his frown lines merely deepened when his azure orbs landed on a certain onyx haired rich kid, an icepack placed strategically on his crotch.
"What the hell happened to you?"
Zuko merely scowled and hung his head, clicking his tongue in agitation, allowing the ice to do its bidding silently. Sokka quirked a brow at the lack of answer he received, turning to the ever cheerful philosophy teacher who for once had a sombre expression etched onto his aged face.
"My nephew here, for reasons unknown…claimed that tea was simply hot leaf juice. Then if that was not bad enough added the milk to the young lady's cup first, pursued then by the teabag and…lukewarm water." Iroh visibly shuddered, averting his eyes from his already dishonoured nephew.
From that moment everything made sense.