An American aficionado might think his move sensible and smooth. The bargirl brought him the drinks he’d ordered, he paid, then crossed her palm with a couple of quid. I remember being in a London pub with a US pal called Scott. Americans tip morning, noon and night, left, right and centre and to more or less anyone who crosses their path.īut to us it feels gauche, over-the-top, corrupt even. But there is a tradition we’ve never really got to grips with one that rankles, feels awkward and is specifically un-British: tipping. Anarchic humour (Larry David et al), an obsession with coffee, the proliferation of TV channels, jeans, jazz and pre-nups. There are traditions and customs flung at us by our American cousins that some of us Brits have relished.
