Ron Swanson learns something about London, and much to his dismay, he actually likes part of it.
“Why are we here?”
“Just thought you needed some fresh air. Even if that air is filled with the foul stench of European Socialism.”
“Well I’d offer to buy you a drink but where the hell would that even happen?”
“This is London, Ron, there is a pub over there, over there, and one between those two butcher shops.”
“Let’s go to that one, but we’ll be stopping at those two butcher shops first.”