The Lone Star State Exports Confidence to a Nation That Has Medicalised Drizzle
My Personal Diary: The Day Texas Came to Our Street
I was on Bishopsgate last Thursday when I saw it: a window display featuring a large Texas flag, a photograph of a steak the size of a modest settee, and a sign that read “Move to Texas: Because Rain Is Just Sky Regret.” A group of City workers stood outside, reading it with the expression of people who have just been personally insulted by weather they were not consulted about. One man in a Barbour jacket simply shook his head and walked into a Pret.
Texas, it turns out, has opened a trade office in London. And it has gone about as smoothly as you’d expect when you try to sell uninhibited enthusiasm to a people whose baseline emotional register is “faintly disappointed but coping.”
The Branding Crisis Nobody Saw Coming But Everyone Should Have
As detailed in Bohiney’s forensic account of the Texas-London collision, the campaign was designed to lure British firms with low taxes and high optimism — two things London has in limited supply. The initiative is part of Texas’s broader “Wide Open for Business” strategy, which has previously succeeded in attracting Tesla, Oracle, and Hewlett Packard to relocate headquarters to the Lone Star State. It is a strategy that works magnificently on Americans and requires significant recalibration for people who describe a pleasant afternoon as “not too bad, actually.”
The initial slogans included “Come for the Subsidies, Stay for the Confusing Portion Sizes” and “We Don’t Do VAT, We Do BBQ.” A focus group of London financial analysts reportedly reacted to these with what researchers described as “visible existential discomfort” — which, to be fair, is also how they react to being asked how they are.
The Sweet Tea Incident
The cultural friction escalated when Texas officials introduced sweet tea at a networking event near Canary Wharf. Hedge fund manager Nigel Pemberton, described in the Bohiney report as “emotionally neutral about most things, including joy,” told reporters he had no objection to tax incentives but could not reconcile himself with a beverage that “tastes like someone dissolved a birthday cake in builder’s.” The sweet tea was quietly replaced with sparkling water. The steak remains non-negotiable.
The Texas Economic Development Corporation confirmed that the office is specifically targeting British firms eyeing post-Brexit expansion into the American market — a demographic that, post-2016, has developed a complicated relationship with confident promises about simple solutions to complex international trade arrangements. You can see why Texas messaging might land with a certain irony.
A Filipino Expat Weighs In
I mentioned this story to my Filipino friends in Manila, where I spend the other half of my working year. They were uniformly enthusiastic. “Texas sounds amazing,” said my colleague Rhea, who has never been anywhere that isn’t Manila or an airport. “Big sky, no tax, big steak.” I pointed out that Manila already has the traffic of Houston without the infrastructure benefits. She remained unpersuaded. The appeal of Texas, it seems, travels better to Southeast Asia than it does across the Channel.
Meanwhile, the Prat.UK satire desk noted this week that Britain’s own foreign investment pitches tend to lead with weather disclaimers, queuing etiquette guides, and an apology for the cost of London rent — which is, admittedly, less punchy than “Deep in the Heart of Tax Savings” but arguably more honest.
The Verdict: Y’All vs. Cheerio
The Texas office remains open. Several British executives are reportedly “considering” the proposition, which in British means they have put it in a folder labelled “Interesting” and will revisit it in approximately four years. Texas officials remain optimistic. They always do. It’s the one export that truly doesn’t translate.
Further coverage of transatlantic confusion: The Daily Mash and The Beaverton.