As some of you may know, and others may not, I live in Australia. Which is nice. There are many upsides to living in this land “of beauty, rich and rare”, but the laughter, the laughter most certainly lies in the downsides. More specifically, it lies in the trouble many, many Australians have with my, so I’m told, strong Scottish accent.
First rule of being Scottish in Australia – It is utterly, probably mathematically, and legally impossible for us to pronounce the name Carl. We can’t do it. Don’t fight it, just accept it. Second rule, on a daily, maybe hourly basis, people will stare at you blankly when you speak, almost as if it isnt English at all, but some strange garbled dialect from Atmos 4, the 3rd moon of Tremender in the Appalchian galaxy.
For example, I recently made a trip to the local sandwich emporium to purchase a delicious lunch. Let’s see how that visit went shall we?
Location: Subway
Me: I’ll have a footlong wheat please.
Subway Chick (smiling): What would you like on it?
Me: Turkey please.
Subway Chick (Smile evaporates and is replaced by a glazed look): What?
Me: Turkey please.
Subway Chick (looks bemused): I’m sorry, what?
Me: T…..U…..R…..K…..E…..Y
Subway Chick :
Me: Turkey please
Subway Chick(Laughs nervously): Sorry?
Me(drawing it in the air) : T…..U…..R…..K…..E…..Y
Subway Chick: I’ll get the manager, one minute.
Manager: Yes sir, what can we get you today?
Me: Turkey please.
Manager:
Me:(FFS, pointing) That one. Turkey.
Manager:
Chick(Smiling again): Ah, Turkey. I thought you said Choc chip.
Me(internally): Aye, I want a footlong Choc chip with extra sparkles hold the frosting Judith.
Manager: Sorry about that sir, one footlong Turkey coming up.
Me: Thank you, eh…..
Manager: Carl.