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Britain is turning into a Third World country

It was little things that made me fall in love with Britain. You didn’t have to count your change in shops. You almost never saw private security guards. You could drink from the tap. You could flick a switch and the light would actually come on.

You could get into a taxi, confident, not only that you wouldn’t be mugged, but that you’d be driven by the shortest route and charged the correct fare. If you stopped at a red light, you would not have every car behind you hooting in fury. You could send valuables by post.

Arriving as a seven-year-old from Peru, I felt a glow of wonder at these things that, even now, has not entirely left me. I thought then, and I still think, that people who have grown up in this country are unconscionably blasé about what made it special.

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