English Hospitality

An American tourist in London decides to skip his tour group and explore the city on his own. He wanders around, seeing the sights, and occasionally stops at a quaint pub to soak up the local culture, chat with the lads and have a pint of Guinness.
After a while he finds himself in a very high class neighbourhood with big, stately, residences, no pubs, no shops, no restaurants, and worst of all, no public toilets. He really, really, has to go after all those Guinnesses.
He finds a narrow side street, with high walls surrounding the adjacent buildings and decides to use the wall to solve his problem.
As he is unzipping, he is tapped on the shoulder by a London Bobby, who says, "I say, sir, you simply cannot do that here, you know."
"I'm very sorry, officer," replies the American, "but I really, really have to go and I just can't find a public toilet."
"Ah, yes," said the bobby. "Just follow me."
He leads him to a back alley, then along a wall to a gate, which he opens.
"In there," points the bobby. "Whiz away sir, anywhere you want."
The American enters and finds himself in the most beautiful garden he has ever seen. Manicured grass lawns, statuary, fountains, sculpted > hedges, and huge beds of gorgeous flowers, all in perfect bloom. Since he has the cop's blessing, he unburdens himself and is greatly relieved.
As he goes back through the gate, he says to the bobby, "That was really decent of you. Is that what you call English hospitality?"
"No, sir" replies the policeman, "That is what we call the French Embassy."