A British businessman recalled being stuck in his room all night: “It’s not the most pleasant of experiences,” he said. “I suppose it’s a question of British stiff upper lip. There’s nothing we can do. It would be foolhardy to leave the room.” This was after he’d spent the entire night with the furniture against the door, presumably fearing for his life as people ran up and down the corridors to the sound of explosions and gunshots.

It reminded her of an episode in Siege of Krishnapur, JG Farrell’s satire on the British in India. The Collector’s favourite Louis XVI table has been taken outside to be used as an altar for the christening of a child. Surrounded by sepoys out to kill the British, the skies darken and rain is imminent. Finally, the rain begins to fall and “the Collector, forgetting that he had only just renounced an interest in the vain pomp and glory of the world, thought crossly: ‘That won’t do the Louis XVI table any good at all.’” (p:239)

Where would we be without stereotypes?