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Category: wtf

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?

Do You Smell That? That’s The Smell Of Victory — And Shaq

Do You Smell That? That’s The Smell Of Victory — And Shaq

I feel like something terrible has happened to me, but I can’t remember what it was. It feels like I was abducted by aliens, except aliens have the decency to give you a lollipop and a kind word after they probe you. Perhaps I’m thinking of something else, but the sentiment remains the same. I don’t appreciate unsolicited probing from anyone, and I especially don’t appreciate it coming from a Gold Bond foot powder commercial. I really don’t know how much information you can gather from a bum, but I absolutely forbid anyone trying to gather any information from mine. My body is a temple, among other things, and trans-dimensional Shaq-like beings are not allowed access to the service entrance.

Coincidentally trans-dimensional Shaq-like beings is the name of my Ace Of Base tribute band, but that’s a story for another time.

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.

Just Another Day In Las Vegas

Just Another Day In Las Vegas

At first I thought that this was from a sketch comedy show, or it was a parody of some sort, or it was scripted and everyone was just playing along. Then I came to the sad realization that it was a real thing that happened and these are vaguely real people. At one point in time there was a crazed midget wandering the streets of Las Vegas, and for one reason or another he was detained by the local authorities. This video was probably broadcast on national television before being plastered all over the Intertunnel, which is even more troubling.

 Personally, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just wish someone told me sooner.