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Category: UK

The Greatest Island — In The World

The Greatest Island — In The World


Jeremy Clarkson is a British institution. In my humble opinion, he’s on the same level as the Queen and Jack the Ripper. He’s as important to British culture as fish and chips and the Union Jack. The only English TV personality that even comes close to him is Stephen Fry, but he is a bit too posh for our tastes. And he drives around in a London taxi instead of a Maserati, so there’s that too.

Mr. Clarkson is the exact type of man-child that we appreciate over here at the BSBFB headquarters. He’s reckless, bold, brash, and painfully unhip. He dresses like your dad if your dad was completely blind and mildly demented. He likes loud, fast cars, explosions, and loud, fast women. He’s living the life we all would if we could, and it’s great fun to watch. I don’t know if I’d call him a hero, but he’s pretty darn close.

If the English had any sense they’d erect big brass statues of Jeremy Clarkson all over the countryside to honor his achievements. Hosting Top Gear for a million-and-a-half years has got to be worth a medal or two at the very least. He’s one of the greatest TV presenters — in the world.

English, Fauntleroy, Do You Speak It?

English, Fauntleroy, Do You Speak It?

Although I only have the most basic understanding of the English language, I have a deep knowledge of strange accents and styles of speaking. I can recognize and translate every accent from murmured Russian and bellowed German, to less comprehensible utterances like jive and teenager. I know you’re all probably very impressed, but I’m afraid that my abilities are not as complete as I once thought. Like many sensible, God-fearing people, I am completely bewildered by anything that comes out of the United Kingdom and Ireland; the British are mostly hopeless, the Scottish are confusing a best, and the Irish are terrifying. The whole place is an absolute mess when it comes to communication, and that is what bothers me the most. I have no idea how three places so close together have managed to invent so many dialects.

I will admit that some of the English have sorted themselves out, so you won’t need a dedicated translator on your vacation to London, but it’s a good idea to bring one with you in case you run into an Irishman: 

I’m sorry — could you say that again?

If It’s Not Scottish It’s Crap

If It’s Not Scottish It’s Crap

(Warning: they’re Scottish, so they could be saying almost anything and I probably wouldn’t notice)

“Steamy windys in heelys? Nyke shrug mum. So hodensay cheese toast in here?”

I don’t think it’s humanly possible to produce better ads than these. The first sentence says it all:

“Steamy windys in heelys?” 

Now why didn’t I think of that? This kind of genius doesn’t come very often. I hope companies in America start incorporating indecipherable babbling into their advertisements. I would be a lot more likely to buy a new Chevy if the narrator simply blew spit bubbles into the microphone and screamed at the top of his lungs instead of wasting his breath talking about torque or horsepower per second, or whatever.

YOU WOT MATE? I’LL BASH YUR HEAD IN, YA CHEEKY BADGER

YOU WOT MATE? I’LL BASH YUR HEAD IN, YA CHEEKY BADGER

I have a sneaking suspicion that they’re speaking English, but I really couldn’t tell you. After a while all the words strung together just turned into a single tone, and I’m pretty sure I’ve gone completely deaf in at least one of my several ears. I can still feel the vibrations from their speaking inside my head, but I have no way to decipher what the hell they’re on about. They seem to be angry about something, but it’s hard to tell. Maybe that’s just how they talk.

Since they seem to be on the Scottish version of Maury I’m guess that one of them likes leaving iceberg lettuce in the other’s bed, or perhaps they’re having a minor disagreement about who gets to use the TV on weekdays. I’m going to need a translator to get any more information, so that’s really the best I can do at the moment.