BP CEO, Tony Hayward, and The Importance of Being British.

Listening to BP’s CEO, Tony Hayward, offer his apology for soiling the Gulf of Mexico, made me wish, once again, that I was born British.

The first time I felt that way was back in 1995 when I saw actor Hugh Grant, apologize on J. Leno for his well publicized infidelity with a prostitute. Hugh skillfully applied a public-relations policy the military calls: Maximum Exposure, Minimal Delay. Instead of hiding from what he did, he went on national television, the week it happened, and said, “I think you know, in life, what's a good thing to do and what's a bad thing; and I did a bad thing… and there you have it."

Sure, Hugh had some things going for him. He was handsome. He also appeared genuinely contrite. But what really made everyone want to say, “Aw, don’t worry about it, Hugh; what’s a crack-whore between friends,” was the British accent. Seriously. Try saying, “I did a bad thing… and there you have it," with a Brooklyn accent. It just doesn’t fly.

Now the same thing is happening with Tony Hayward. In BP’s television ads, he’s puppy-dog-sad as he addresses the camera. “The gulf spill is a tragedy,” he says, softly, “that never should have happened…To those effected and your families, I’m deeply sorry.” How can I be mad at the little guy? He looks and sounds like Frodo from The Lord of The Rings. My first reaction is compassion. What I want to do is give him a hug. Then the voice of reason, from deep inside me, yells, “Wait a second! Wait a second! This guy’s a total, A-Hole!”

I guarantee if Tony were, say, a Texas oil-man, speaking with a thick Southern drawl, his head would’ve been on a pike weeks ago. But, since we’ve been conditioned, over years, through countless movies, to associate a British accent with honor, trustworthiness, and intelligence, Tony gets his pass.

To the American ear, even a British retard sounds suave. This makes the accent practically a superpower, like atomic energy, which can be harnessed and used for good or evil. If you don’t believe me, try this experiment: Next time you’re hanging out with a British guy, have him approach a group of attractive women and say, “Pardon me, ladies, I just pooped my pants.” See if he doesn’t go home with one of them.

It’s dangerous to watch Tony Hayward on television. If you do, beware: He’ll speak English the way it ought to be spoken; and next thing you know, you might feel linguistically inferior. Then you might assume it’s best to shut up and listen; let the expert of our language show you how it’s done. Once that happens, it’s too late; you’re open to his persuasion. You won’t know why, but you’ll find yourself saying: “Thanks for the $20 billion, Tony. What’s The Gulf of Mexico between friends.”