Res ipsa loquitur ("The thing itself speaks")
I just saw this on YouTube and had to share it.
It sums up the desperate plight of Scots everywhere . . .
Oh, I’ve seen this – It’s hilarious!
… micht be mair helpfu gin ye ken a common Inglis wird but ye canna think on the Scots ane for it, but ye aye hiv tae be awaur o the fact as weill that Scots an English shares up tae 80 or 90% o the same lexicon.
OS … the guid professor is makin’ fun o’ tha scoritsh accent … we didnee do anythin’ … ah dinny ken why but … Haud yer wheesht!
Polls reveal that people believe those with Scottish accents are trustworthy and honest and those with Irish accents … aren’t. (source: HenMan)
Lassie, lang may yer lum reek.
I get the idea of the video, but their “eleven” didn’t seem all that out of whack. Plus, they should’ve included a “ten” or “twelve” for completeness.
I was once in London at a fast food joint and trying to pay for a meal that should’ve been 6 pounds or so, and I was very confused because the cashier kept saying “18″. “Eighteen?” “18″ “Eighteeen?” “Yes, 18 or take out?” (Cockney??)
Wi’ ither folks coal!
The Irish keep trying to claim this rendition but it’s 100% Scot … the Reid twins, Charlie and Craig straight from Leith, Edinburgh, Cornwall and Auchtermuchty.
My favorite version of Rabbie Burns’ Auld Lang Syne by Dougie MacLean … just because …
These two 99% dudes get into a 1% restricted elevator which will not allow them to go up … only down … or …
A Scotsman went to a pub with his great dane and when he arrived, he tied the dog up outside [ootside] and went in to have a pint o’ bitter. A few minutes later, another Scottish bloke walked in, and the following conversation ensued:
New man: Is that your dog ootside?
First man: Yes. What of it?
New man: Well, I think my dog may’a killed ‘im.
First man: What kind’a dog you got that can kill a great dane?
New man: Well, e’s a chihuahua.
First man: Ha! ‘ow can a chihuahua kill a great dane?
New man: Well, I think the wee bastard may’a gotten stuck in ‘is throat.
Two true stories: In Houston a Chinese man was trying to order take out Tex-Mex food. The sever, speaking with a heavy Mexican accent, yells at him to speak English. He yells back that he is speaking English.
In Dallas, a young, black Londoner is trying to order a Big Mac, and neither he nor the young, black man taking his order can understand the other.and both are speaking grammatically correct English.
I once worked in a steel mill
( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steel_mill )
Much of the labor force were Mexican, Puerto Rican, Macedonian, or Polish.
I was on a job one night, cleaning behind an open-hearth furnace. I worked with 7 Spanish-speaking men. Since we were cleaning debris, the labor pusher just pointed at shovels, brooms, crow bars, jack hammers, and materials to be moved, when “talking” to me. He got into quite a heated discussion with one laborer and finally said, “Fuck it, speak English; I don’t understand you.”
During lunch, I asked why two Hispanics had to speak English. He explained that he was Mexican, and the other was Puerto Rican. I asked why that mattered, and he explained the Puerto Rican spoke much faster than Mexicans, and individual words were different. He then said that I would have the same problem speaking to Canadians, British, or Australians.
There was a local interviewer in Minneapolis years ago named Henry Wolf, he came here from Austria. On his Sunday Morning TV show back in the early 70′s he was trying to interview Henry Kissinger. I wish there was a tape of it! Neither could understand the accent of the other, most of the interview was “WHAT?”. Two Germanic accents and no common language!
In the same steel mill referenced above, I eventually worked as an evening shift time card clerk and ate lunch with a rotation of shift foremen.
One evening, I worked with a very pleasant Mexican American shift foreman. I’d made tacos at home from ground beef, rice, beans, and cheese. I added lettuce and tomato after heating the tacos in tinfoil on the back of a furnace. Returning to the foreman office, I said “Jesse, would you sample one of my tacos?” He grinned and said, “Only if you sample one of my bologna sandwiches.”
Another evening, I worked with a Macedonian American labor pusher, whose english was still halting but understood. He once told a work gang to “Disappear these bricks.” Alex related that, when he came to America, his brother got him a job as a laborer. He understood no English. Foremen or labor pushers would point at an implement, point at the material he was to move, and point where to take it.
Alex told me that there was once a restaurant right outside the gate. Employees could punch out for lunch and go there. Since his brother worked a different shift, he taught Alex to say “Apple pie and coffee” and told him how many singles to put on the counter.
After a week of “apple pie and coffee,” Alex asked his brother to teach him something new. The first night of his new shift, he proudly asked the waitress for “Ham sandwich and milk.” She turned to him and said what he now thought sounded like: “Bread, toast or bun? Mustard or mayo? Catsup? Cheese – American, Swiss, Provolone? Lettuce? Tomato?” He said he stammered, “Apple pie and coffee!!!”
english ==> English
Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:
You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )
Connecting to %s
Notify me of follow-up comments via email.
Notify me of new posts via email.
Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
Theme: K2-lite by k2 team. Blog at WordPress.com.
RSS Entries and RSS Comments
Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.
Join 1,514 other followers