Years ago, my husband worked in a lowly capacity, at the local college. We got invited to this fancy meal, which was a kind of 'high table' affair with some college bigwigs. I was thinking of applying to do a PGCE at this college as it was very close to our house. So I went along with him to this meal.
This man started talking - a bit eccentric but quite entertaining... The kind who likes the sound of his voice, and looked to be what he was - ex-military and an ex officer. He now worked as the Bursar of the college, but, started telling us, his home was 150 miles away in X village in Yorkshire and he only got there at the weekends. Then he started regaling us with tales of the rough n ready yokels in Village X. Thing was - Village X was where my family had lived for generations. And I grew up in, and was very fond of, the next village along, Village Y. The Bursar started regaling the entire table with hilarious tales of the rivalry between the plebs of Village X and the yobs of Village Y and what idiots the Yorkshire yokels were. Especially those of Village Y who were particularly common plebs, and thick too just like James Herriot always said the Yorkshire yokels were.
I waited til there was a silence then piped up "I come from Y."
He looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him.
On the plus side, also present was the PGCE course leader and when I applied for a place, later in the year - I got a very coveted and hard-won place. The course leader was from Yorkshire. 