More than 200 years have passed since we declared independence from England, yet Tories still walk among us. What else can explain the phenomenal popularity of the Streets of London Pub, located in the heart of Midtown at 1804 J St.? OK, it could be the authentic British food, including bangers and mash, Cornish and vegetarian pasties, shepherd’s pies, chicken and vegetable curry just like they make back home (or so I am told by one of the Queen’s former subjects), the best damned fish ’n’ chips in Sacramento, and a score of different brews from across the pond. Yes, the food and beer could explain it. But I sense something more sinister afoot. The limeys couldn’t get us through our hearts and our pocketbooks, but after a successful aural assault in the 1960s that included the Beatles, the Stones and the Who, they’re aiming to finish us off through our stomachs. It will be a silent coup, marked only by the rise of soccer as our national sport. Resistance is futile, so you might as well get on down to the pub and drown your sorrows.