Around the year 1985, while visiting one of my favorite establishments, I was spotted by one of my more mirthful friends, standing in his usual place at the bar. He immediately burst into laughter, the likes of which I was not accustomed to experiencing until later in the evening. On observing my puzzled expression, he exclaimed, “You bloody colonial.” On seeing that this did nothing to alleviate my bewilderment, he went on to remind me, thinking that I had been too inebriated to remember that I had referred to him as such the previous evening. There were times when such an event may have occurred, but for two reasons, this was not one of them. First, I had never associated the local populace with colonialism, and second, I had not even been there the previous evening. I therefore concluded that he either dreamt it, or it must have been someone else from the motherland that had been the reason for his mirth. Since that time, I have used the expression “you bloody colonial” with amusing response when called for by the situation.
This led to the idea of writing a novel about a group of British characters that were still calling the shots, as it were here in the United States—thereby influencing politics and business without the powers realizing it, the aforementioned friend being the model for one of the main characters.