We all have that little voice inside our heads, right? The one that narrates our lives, offers (often unsolicited) advice, and occasionally berates us for that extra slice of cake. Mine used to be a pretty standard issue, run-of-the-mill American accent. Think Tom Hanks with a dash of Midwestern twang. Then, one Tuesday morning, everything changed.

“Good Morning, You.” (Wait, What?): The Day My Inner Voice Went British

I woke up, stumbled to the coffee maker, and went through my usual morning routine. It wasn’t until I spilled coffee on my favorite shirt that I noticed something was off.

“Oh, brilliant,” a voice inside my head drawled, thick with sarcasm. “Just splendid. That’s absolutely what you needed this morning, isn’t it?”

I froze, coffee mug halfway to my lips. My inner voice had never sounded like that before. It was… British. And not just any British accent, but a posh, slightly condescending one that could only belong to a character in a Jane Austen novel.

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