Richard Lutz takes up his UK citizenship and becomes a loyal resident of Old Blighty.

OK..let’s begin. Everyone sitting up straight and no one chewing gum or reading off cryptic notes inked onto the inside of your wrists? Ok..fingers on the buzzers, pencils at the ready.

The quiz:

Under which monarch did The Bill of Rights pass?

What did Sake Mahomet open in 1810?

What is the national dish of Northern Ireland?

What country is currently suspended from the Commonwealth?

 How many elected members are there in the Welsh Assembly?

(answers at the end)

Yes, these and many more are the mini-facts you have to learn to pass the UK Citizens test. OK, it is multiple choice. But, simply put, you got to memorise a 160 page book put together by a Home Office committee to learn about Britain in order to become British.

I took the test, having crammed the information into my brain and, this week, after about £1,100 in fees and a biometric test to verify that I am me, I stood up and swore to God to back the queen, and all who exist below her. I am not a UK long-term resident anymore, but a voting, breathing, moaning Brit. And that’s Official.

This final hurdle (see below….me with my oath of allegiance) took place at the Birmingham Registry Office. I was in the 9.15 AM session with a jolly Superintendent of The Registry who was meeting and greeting and leading me and 18 others through the ceremony that ends with a gift bag that includes your vital citizen’s certificate, your form letter from Home Secretary Theresa May, a nice medallion struck in the city, and voucher for 10,000 Nectar points (only kidding on this last one…).

Of course, it is easy to bat this whole thing away. But for the overwhelming majority who passed through to sing the national anthem at the end, it was deadly serious.

Most of my fellow new citizens in this two hour session were from either sub-Saharan Africa, the Middle East or Afghanistan. All seemed deeply moved by the experience. For some, it meant safety and hopes for not only themselves but their children too. For some, it may have meant sadly leaving behind a shattered violent country where civil law has broken down. And for some,  things happened  to family or friends that they will  never forget.

Standing next to the deputy lord mayor getting your photo taken with the Union Jack behind unfurled on a wall meant they faced a future…. not a nightmare or a life of poverty.

But for all of us, it did mean one other unifying thing: we can vote.

And while it may be too late to cast a ballot in the early May local elections, it does mean being able to vote in the EU in-or-out referendum in late June. Stay in the EU and we probably bumble on. Vote to leave and we are out in the cold, cold world. There, my first rant as a Brit.

Answers:

1. James II
2. Britain’s first curry house
3. Ulster fry up
4. Fiji
5. The Assembly has 60 members