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In some of the milder samples of cinematic rah-rah about the Anglo-American defeat of the Nazi menace, a number of reluctant yet plucky little fighters end up in Switzerland; and now we can see why. Although the Swiss Confederation notoriously failed to assist Winston Churchill and his American chums in winning either World War, there is much about the country that must appeal to the patriotic citizen of Most Definitely Somewhere. Switzerland has never been a member of the European Union, which very nearly redeems its ghastly neutrality in the two official wars against the Hun; and as far as the mainstream of British opinion is concerned no country can be all bad which is full of bankers and Nazi gold. As if these advantages were not enough, the Swiss citizenship test has revealed itself as a thing of beauty to rival the hypothetical mutant offspring of Tin-Pot Tessie and the strutting ex-Caudillo of the Farage Falange. The system still lags behind the British one in that naturalisation is apparently open to some marital partners regardless of income; but the fiscal deficiency is more than redeemed by objections on grounds ranging from hate crimes against cow-bells to the wearing of jogging pants without due care and attention, and being too wilfully Turkish to understand the wonders of Hornussen, Schwingen or municipal recycling systems even after a quarter-century lifetime's residence.