Ah, Bisto! That is the collective sigh of millions of British ex-pats, looking out over sun-soaked oceans and exotic markets, nostalgic for cupboard staples from home. Even their new friends abroad, who have traditionally given a warmer welcome to the British than to their food, are suddenly keen as mustard on teabags, baked beans and chocolate fingers. Exports of these and other quintessentially British foods are up almost 10 per cent in a year (see page 4).

Like nomadic tribes in the desert, most races take their food with them when they move. Britain has benefited more than any other nation from an influx of cuisine. China gave us soy sauce. France brought the croissant. Greece introduced us to hoummos. We take pride in our favourite imports: the Americans claim pizza as their own, the British claim chicken tikka masala. And in return - what? It seems that Britain is now infecting fragile, far-flung places with a taste for Wall's sausages and fry-ups.

This hardly seems a fair exchange. But there's no accounting for tastes. British websites are doing a roaring trade, taking rice pudding to Paris and brown sauce to Bombay. In New York, beanz meanz hip. All over the world, the British diaspora is tinged with Marmite.

Some British foods have gone beyond the palate. They have enriched the language. Brussels bureaucrats refusing to take “no” for an answer? They're on the gravy train. Amy Winehouse in a funk? She's hamming it up. Deluged in e-mails? Check for spam. The success rate of these foods looks unstoppable. We await the time when spotted dick, wet nelly and toad-in-the-hole get their day of knickerbocker glory.