All this talk of accents led to me keenly analyse what it is that makes accents rule, exactly.

In that light, join me in a thought experiment.

Girls (and guys) imagine a tall, tanned man with aquiline features. Lean, winning smile, the works. Let’s give him an Italian accent and call him… Antonio. Swoon-worthy, n’est-ce pas? If the physical features didn’t do it for you, that accent should certainly tip you over the edge.

Now let’s make him short and fat. His smile isn’t so winning, his face not so tanned. But he retains both his name and his delightful accent. Put beside him an identical-looking short and fat man. He could be Antonio’s twin. Except this man is not called Antonio. He is an American, and he is called Trent. Trent is from Dayton, Ohio and does not sound particularly special.

Now ladies, and some of you gentlemen, if you had to pick only one of these two rotund and vertically challenged men, which one would it be?

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A British alum once told me, “If you’ve got an English accent, you’ve got it made, mate!” (”Mate” is English for “dude”.)

For the most part , the accent thing is but an icebreaker. It gets you what I like to call the “deer in headlights” moment. The girl (or guy, for some) will notice the accent, and will have a wow moment. After that, it’s down to the accent holder to use the advantage.

So, part 1 of this series is a list of useful and not-so-useful places for accents (whether you have them or can put them on).

Places where the exotic accent is useful (based on the experiences of yours truly)

1. Random meetings: Waiting for college advisors and see a nice-looking someone? Strike up conversation and let the accent do its work. Obtain number.

2. House parties: ‘Nuff said.

3. Frat parties: If you are a foreign brother - you’ve got it made. If not, then enjoy distracting girls from frat-like juvenile attempts at seduction simply by speaking.

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Ann Coulter is one great American dame. Her constant presence in the American media circuit and her inspired authorship of many best-selling books are testament to the resonance of her arguments.

Or maybe it’s just because she’s blonde. She’s a MILF, too wouldn’t you say? It makes her stand out from the other female Republican pundits - and there you have the probable reason for her media success. Bill O’ Reilly is probably thankful he sits under a desk when he sees Ann Coulter on his show.

“There are other female Republican pundits?” one might ask, to which I would reply,

“Yes, you are just confusing them for men.”

It is quite easy to do, since, whilst relatively coherent, they all look like the spawn of Margaret Thatcher and a gerbil. If Ann Coulter had looked like one of these Maggie-gerbils, I would bet all the money in my pockets against all the money in yours that you just wouldn’t know her name.

Unless you were related to or haunted by her. Sonnet to this affect after the jump.

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It is bizarre to this antiquated pocketwatch-wearing Englishman that Iowa (Englishman: “Iowa? Funny name, that. Who’s that then?”) holds such prominence in choosing a presidential candidate.

Something seems amiss from the point of view of a foreigner in America who grew up with a democratic system that is, well, normal. A state of corn growers, where there are more dirt tracks than roads, with a population that is something like one percent of the nation, has such power?

To me, that’s like going back to the UK and asking a bunch of sheep farmers from Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, Wales (you bet your sweet arse it exists) to shout at each other for an evening about who they want for Prime Minister. Then, after the inevitable fight and customary sheep shagging has ended, I take the consensus and plaster it all over the front pages of every mainstream publication. This will then give credibility to some potential twit, all because he promised to make sheep-shagging legal and ban all beef so lamb prices skyrocket.

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