Wizards and kissing.

Harry Potter and Rounders. The only two English things in existence that Japanese ten to fourteen year olds get excited about. That, and my marital status.

I couldn't have tried harder. I showed them England condensed into picture format: the Queens (Elizabeth 1 and 2) and Prince William (they thought it was David Beckham); Ascot, Wimbledon, Glastonbury, Halloween, Guy Fawkes night; Keira Knightley, Kate Moss, Judi Dench and James Bond; Christianity and Christmas and Easter and churches and pubs; football and cricket and darts and snooker; Take That and Queen and The Beatles and The Rolling Stones and Oasis and Radiohead; David Cameron (I may have called him James Cameron by accident); London and Cambridge and Oxford and Brighton and the Lake District and Devon; an English breakfast and Sunday lunch and bangers n mash and fish n chips and all other British foods with n in the middle; multiculturalism and hinduism and buddhism and curry and pizza and chopsticks. I got England by the throat and I squeezed it into a big fat Yorkshire sausage in a slide format and pushed it down their little throats: all 58 of them. And the only time they sat up straight was when I mentioned the words: Harry Potter. The boy is, truly, magic.

Once I had figured this out, of course, the presentation was easy.

"Where is this?"
Shrugs, nodding heads: general disinterest.
"This is Oxford University. It is one of the oldest Universities in the world."
Glazed looks, slumped shoulders.
"I used to live in Oxford."
Pencils being tapped up and down.
"And - Harry Potter is filmed right here."
"Ehh??" Suddenly sixty children break out into shouts and incredulity; start asking questions, pointing, clapping.

A few minutes later:
"And what about this?"
More shrugs.
"London."
More glazed looks.
"This is where Harry Potter is filmed too. You know the Hogwarts Express? That's Kings Cross station."
Uproar: suddenly every child in the room wants to go to Kings Cross Station.

So I abused it slightly. Bangers n mash? Harry Potter eats it. Radiohead? Daniel Radcliffe is a huge fan (I'm sure he is: that covers pretty much everyone in England). The English public transport system? That's where JK Rowling thought up Harry Potter. Churches? All the basis for Harry Potter. You know where the children meet and Harry's in the invisible cloak? That's a pub. Yup. The actress who plays Hermione went to Glastonbury. And if I could have got Dumbledore playing at Wimbledon, you can bet your arse that I would have done it.

By the time I had struggled through an hour of pointing at pictures and saying "what's this?" and "who's this?" to absolute silence (not one of them recognised even one James Bond), I was ready to push my Powerpoint presentation straight off the table. So I gave them the chance to ask questions, and fifty six hands went up.

"Yes?"
"How old are you?"
"28."
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No. I do not. Any questions about England?"
And fifty six hands went down.
"No more questions? How about you?"
"I was going to ask the same question."
"And you?"
"Same."
"You?"
"Me too."
"Right, so no more questions?"
"No."
"Good. Let's go and play a traditional English game of Rounders."

Harry Potter and smacking a ball around a pitch and running from post to post: they love both of them. Possibly because I told them that Daniel Radcliffe played Rounders when he was their age, and if Harry Potter hadn't been a wizard, he'd have been forced to play it at school too. The key to being a good teacher, you see, is in working out exactly what interests children, and then bending the truth to fit it: known in other jobs as lying, and known in education and the media as being creative. JK Rowling can rest in peace at night knowing that an entire nation of children know where England is because of her. And I can rest in peace at night knowing that an entire classroom of children now want to eat bangers n mash and go to Glastonbury for entirely madeup reasons.

I did my best. But to a thirteen year old Japanese child, there is nothing more interesting than a thirteen year old British wizard and whether or not the teacher is getting kissed regularly. England, and her many, many glories, will just have to wait until they're a little older: at which point they will no longer care quite so much about who I am kissing.

And, by which point, I may be able to give them a very slightly more interesting answer.