That’s typical Derbyshire, that is, a new American always trying to claim that he was indeed one of the huddled masses. Don’t be fooled by his self-pitying depictions of a rain-lashed childhood amid the cobblestones, clogs and class resentment of Northern England. Piccalilli, indeed! The Derb was clearly brought up in conditions of sybaritic luxury. In the flatlands and marshes of East Norfolk we could only dream of such delights (it is, I somehow seem to remember – a one-off treat, doubtless – very good with ham).
For more in this vein, please see the appropriate Monty Python sketch.