"Yes," countered his companion. Think of all the souls who would be speaking proper English now.
We bantered back and forth. They bemoaned being in such a barbaric country where beer was not served at the proper temperature. They wailed that nowhere could they find proper cream, only "heavy" cream or something called half-and-half. And the things called English Muffins? Pah!
We continued to walk around downtown, until I took them to one of the cobblestone streets that still are around. The stones had been ballast for ships coming to Charleston from around the world, a large number from England. We spent the next 15 minutes stepping from stone to stone, "walking on Mother England" and the precious ground of my hometown in with each footfall.