Which old British tradition do you secretly hope never dies out?

A weekly ritual of meat, potatoes and gravy that turns even the gloomiest Sunday into something worth getting out of bed for.

Nothing unites Britain quite like a well-formed queue, and woe betide anyone who dares to push in at the bus stop.

A glorious summer afternoon of homemade jam, dodgy raffles and someone's gran winning the Victoria sponge prize again.

Sparklers, parkin and a guy on top of the bonfire — a properly weird tradition we somehow all just go along with.

Grown adults skipping about with sticks outside a country pub — utterly bizarre, completely brilliant, and proudly ours.