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No 2. Bernie's Laws
| # 1 | If you go out into the garden because you
just want to lean back and relax, there will be at least one stupid neighbour
mowing his lawn.
If no neighbour is mowing his lawn, you'd better not lean back and relax, because it will be YOU who is mowing his lawn. |
| # 2 | If you think you're wrong you're right.
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| # 3 | Bob Dylan said: "Don't follow leaders."
I would go one step further: "Don't believe in weather forecasts." (especially
this year)
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The Hans Brinker Hotel in Amsterdam is "the worst joint in town" - at least according to the manager. Thhe hotel brochures claim: "Now even less service." Posters offer USE OF EMERGENCY EXITS FREE OF CHARGE. FROM NOW ON EVEN MORE DOG TURDS IN FRONT OF MAIN ENTRANCE. ALL ROOMS WITHOUT A VIEW. "I was sick and tired of all this bickering", says hotel manager Rob Penris. "If somebody turns up now and complains, I tell him: "What's your problem? Didn't you read our brochures? We warned you." And he is right. Guests know what to expect: noise, filth and 20 gnats per room as a special summer offer. Incidentally, a single costs 70 Guldens per night - quite a price.
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The exo-biologist hesitated slightly. "Er - to tell the truth, the highest life form on this planet - " "Don't tell me it's human beings again!" The exo-biologist shrugged his shoulders. "I'm afraid yes." The captain sank slowly back into his seat and sighed deeply. "Believe me, if I wasn't such a born optimist, I'd begin to fear that we are, after all, the only intelligent species in the whole universe." © Bernd Wahlbrinck
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Here is a very hilarious satirical scene from one of the best farces ever written. Jack Worthing wants to marry Gwendolen, but is first interrogated by her mother, Lady Bracknell.
LADY BRACKNELL
[Sitting down.]
You can take a seat, Mr. Worthing.
[Looks in her pocket for note-book and pencil.]
JACK Thank you, Lady Bracknell, I prefer standing.
LADY B
[Pencil and note-book in hand.]
I feel bound to tell you that you are not down on my list of eligible
young men, although I have the same list as the dear Duchess of Bolton
has. We work together, in fact. However, I am quite ready to enter your
name, should your answers be what a really affectionate mother requires.
Do you smoke?
JACK Well, yes, I must admit I smoke.
LADY B I am glad to hear it. A man should always have an
occupation of some kind. There are far too many idle men in London as it
is.
How old are you?
JACK Twenty-nine.
LADY B A very good age to be married at. I have always
been of opinion that a man who desires to get married should know either
everything or nothing. Which do you know?
JACK
[After some hesitation.]
I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.
LADY B I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve
of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate
exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern
education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate, education
produces no effect whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a serious danger
to the upper classes, and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor
Square. What is your income?
JACK Between seven and eight thousand a year.
LADY B
[Makes a note in her book.]
In land, or in investments?
JACK In investments, chiefly.
LADY B That is satisfactory. What between the
duties expected of one during one’s lifetime, and the duties exacted from
one after one’s death, land has ceased to be either a profit or a pleasure.
It gives one position, and prevents one from keeping it up. That’s all
that can be said about land.
JACK I have a country house with some land, of course, attached to
it, about fifteen hundred acres, I believe; but I don’t depend on that
for my real income. In fact, as far as I can make out, the poachers are
the only people who make anything out of it.
LADY B A country house! How many bedrooms? Well,
that point can be cleared up afterwards. You have a town house, I hope?
A girl with a simple, unspoiled nature, like Gwendolen, could hardly be
expected to reside in the country.
JACK Well, I own a house in Belgrave Square, but it is let by the year
to Lady Bloxham. Of course, I can get it back whenever I like, at six months’
notice.
LADY B Lady Bloxham? I don’t know her.
JACK Oh, she goes about very little. She is a lady considerably advanced
in years.
LADY B Ah, now-a-days that is no guarantee of respectability
of character.
What number in Belgrave Square?
JACK
149.
LADY B
[Shaking her head.]
The unfashionable side. I thought there was something. However, that
could easily be altered.
JACK Do you mean the fashion, or the side?
LADY B
[Sternly.]
Both, if necessary, I presume. What are your politics?
JACK Well, I am afraid I really have none. I am a Liberal Unionist.
LADY B Oh, they count as Tories. They dine with us.
Or come in the evening, at any rate. Now to minor matters. Are your parents
living?
JACK I have lost both my parents.
LADY B Both?... That seems like carelessness. Who
was your father? He was evidently a man of some wealth. Was he born in
what the Radical papers call the purple of commerce, or did he rise from
the ranks of aristocracy?
JACK I am afraid I really don’t know. The fact is, Lady Bracknell,
I said I had lost my parents. It would be nearer the truth to say that
my parents seem to have lost me.... I don’t actually know who I am by birth.
I was well, I was found.
LADY B Found!
JACK The late Mr. Thomas Cardew, an old gentleman of a very charitable
and kindly disposition, found me, and gave me the name of Worthing, because
he happened to have a first-class ticket for Worthing in his pocket at
the time. Worthing is a place in Sussex.
It is a seaside resort.
LADY B Where did the charitable gentleman who had
a first-class ticket for this seaside resort find you?
JACK
[Gravely.]
In a hand-bag.
LADY B A hand-bag?
JACK
[Very seriously.]
Yes, Lady Bracknell. I was in a hand-bag- a somewhat large, black leather
hand-bag, with handles to it- an ordinary hand-bag, in fact.
LADY B In what locality did this Mr. James, or Thomas,
Cardew come across this ordinary hand-bag? JACK In the cloak-room at Victoria
Station. It was given to him in mistake for his own.
LADY B The cloak-room at Victoria Station?
JACK Yes. The Brighton line.
LADY B The line is immaterial. Mr. Worthing, I confess
I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or
at any rate,
bred in a hand-bag, whether it had handles or not, seems to me to display
a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life that remind one of
the worst excesses of the French Revolution. And I presume you know what
that unfortunate movement led to? As for the particular locality in which
the handbag was found, a cloakroom at a railway station might serve to
conceal a social indiscretion- has probably, indeed, been used for that
purpose before nowbut it could hardly be regarded as an assured basis for
a recognized position in good society.
JACK May I ask you then what you would advise me to do? I need hardly
say I would do anything in the world to ensure Gwendolen’s happiness.
LADY B I would strongly advise you, Mr. Worthing,
to try and acquire some relations as soon as possible, and to make a definite
effort to produce at any rate one parent, of either sex, before the season
is quite over.
JACK I don’t see how I could possibly manage to do that. I can produce
the hand-bag at any moment. It is in my dressing-room at home. I really
think that should satisfy you, Lady Bracknell.
LADY B Me, sir! What has it to do with me? You can
hardly imagine that I and Lord Bracknell would dream of allowing our only
daughter- a girl brought up with the utmost care- to marry into a cloak-room,
and form an alliance with a parcel? Good morning, Mr. Worthing!
[Lady Bracknell sweeps out in majestic indignation.]
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THE next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his declaration
in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as his leave of
absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having no feelings
of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at the moment, he
set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the observances, which
he supposed a regular part of the business. On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth,
and one of the younger girls together, soon after breakfast, he addressed
the mother in these words: “May I hope, madam, for your interest with your
fair daughter Elizabeth, when I solicit for the honor of a private audience
with her in the course of this morning?” Before Elizabeth had time for
anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet instantly answered, “Oh,
dear!- Yes- certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy- I am sure she
can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs.” And, gathering
her work together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth called out, “Dear
madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse me.
He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am going
away myself.” “No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you will stay where you
are.” And upon Elizabeth’s seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks,
about to escape, she added, “Lizzy, I insist upon your staying and hearing
Mr. Collins.”
Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction- and a moment’s consideration
making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get it over as soon
and as quietly as possible, she sat down again, and tried to conceal, by
incessant employment, the feelings which were divided between distress
and diversion. Mrs.
Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as soon as they were gone Mr. Collins
began.
“Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from
doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would
have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness;
but allow me to assure you, that I have your respected mother’s permission
for this address.
You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse, however your natural
delicacy may lead you to dissemble; my attentions have been too marked
to be mistaken.
Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion
of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this
subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying-
and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting
a wife, as I certainly did.” The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn
composure, being run away with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near
laughing, that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt
to stop him farther, and he continued:“My reasons for marrying are, first,
that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances
(like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly,
that I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly-
which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particu-
lar advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the
honor of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion
(unasked too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night
before I left Hunsfordbetween our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson
was arranging Miss de Bourgh’s footstool, that she said, ‘Mr. Collins,
you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry.- Choose properly, choose
a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful
sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go
a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring
her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.’ Allow me, by the way, to observe,
my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine
de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. You
will find her manners beyond anything I can describe, and your wit and
vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered
with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus
much for my general intention in favor of matrimony; it remains to be told
why my views were directed to Longbourn instead of my own neighborhood,
where I assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is,
that being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honored
father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy
myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that
the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event
takes place- which, however, as I have already said, may not be for several
years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it
will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing remains for me but to
assure you in
the most animated language of the violence of my affection. To fortune
I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on
your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with;
and that one thousand pounds in the 4 per cents., which will not be yours
till after your mother’s decease, is all that you may ever be entitled
to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure
yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are
married.” It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.
“You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “You forget that I have made no
answer.
Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the
compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honor of your proposals,
but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline them.” “I am not
now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that
it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they
secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favor; and that
sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore
by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead
you to the altar ere long.” “Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your
hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you
that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are)
who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked
a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You
could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman
in the world who would make you so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine
to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified
for the situation.” “Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,”
said Mr. Collins very gravely- “but I cannot imagine that her ladyship
would at all disapprove of you.
And you may be certain that when I have the honor of seeing her again,
I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other
amiable qualifications.” “Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be
unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the
compliment of believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich,
and by refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise.
In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings
with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn estate whenever
it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be considered, therefore,
as finally settled.” And rising as she thus spoke, she would have quitted
the room, had not Mr. Collins thus addressed her:
“When I do myself the honor of speaking to you next on the subject,
I shall hope to receive a more favorable answer than you have now given
me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I
know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the
first application, and perhaps you
have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent
with the true delicacy of the female character.” “Really, Mr. Collins,”
cried Elizabeth with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I
have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know
not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its
being one.” “You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin,
that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons
for believing it are briefly these:- It does not appear to me that my hand
is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would
be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections
with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances
highly in my favor; and you should take it into further consideration,
that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that
another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily
so small, that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness
and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not
serious in your rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your
wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice
of elegant females.” “I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions
whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable
man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I
thank you again and again for the honor you have done me in your proposals,
but to accept them is absolutely impossible.
My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not
consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a
rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.” “You are uniformly
charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry; “and I am persuaded
that when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents,
my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.” To such perseverance in
willful self-deception Elizabeth would make no reply, and immediately and
in silence withdrew; determined, that if he persisted in considering her
repeated refusals as flattering encouragement, to apply to her father,
whose negative might be uttered in such a manner as must be decisive, and
whose behavior at least could not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry
of an elegant female.
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At first glance the humour in this scene may just be an end in itself. Then again, Mark Twain might be using Jim to create laughter which is used as a weapon - against you and me who have a lot of problems accepting people who are DIFFERENT...
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In Germany there is an unmistakable tendency towards translating
foreign film titles in the most moronic way that is possible. Have
a look at these outstanding examples (Let me know if you know any other
stupid examples by sending
me an e-mail !):
| ORIGINAL TITLE | GERMAN TRANSLATION | COMMENTS |
| Disorganized Crime | Im Tresor ist die Hölle los
(translates roughly as
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really moronic - not to mention the fact that the pun - which fits so perfectly - is completely lost |
| Support Your Local Gunfighter | Latigo | pretty weak translation, to say the least - also, according to Joe Hembus' Westernlexikon, this beautiful parody of a Western was promoted in Germany with the following words: "Zwei kaltblütige, unerbittliche Rivalen..." ! |
| Straw Dogs | Wer Gewalt sät...
("He Who Sows Violence...") |
an exception - this time it's the other way round. According to Halliwell's Film Guide, "Sam Peckinpah thought it unneccessary to explain to his audience the significance of his new title (the novel the film is based on is called The Siege of Trencher's Farm) ... which was taken from an old Chinese proverb". |
| The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly | Zwei glorreiche Halunken
("Two Glorious Rascals") |
amazing, right? |
| Deliverance | Beim Sterben ist jeder der Erste
("When it Comes to Dying Everybody Comes First") |
plain stupid |
| Stagecoach (John Ford) | Höllenfahrt nach Santa Fe
("Hell Ride to Santa Fe") |
Later they changed the title to "Ringo" - certainly less sensational, but still: why not the literal translation? |
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Here is a beautiful piece of satire showing what Shakespeare really
thought about himself and his work...
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pete the parrot and shakespeare i got acquainted with
i remember one night when
yes says ben i ve often
money money says bill what the hell
well says frankie beaumont
well says ben jonson
well says i pete
archy |
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July 27, 1998. Two scientists at the University of Berkeley, California, have now discovered a gene that induces children to balance on low walls, especially stone walls. When asked how long it had taken them to find the curious gene, Dr. Carl Luce replied, "Er... to tell you the truth, we hadn't been looking for this gene at all. Actually, since 1951 Gene and I - " (he is referring to Dr. Eugene Axe here) "had been looking for this other gene that is supposedly responsible for the fact that most of the time toddlers put the left boot on the right foot, and vice versa. And we were just fiddling around there when all of a sudden we bumped into this wall gene."
According to Dr. Luce, their future research will focus on other aspects of genetically controlled child behaviour. "There is an obvious tendency in small children to put the plate they are eating from as far away as possible from the edge of the table, thus ensuring that an incredible amount of food substances falls or rather spills onto the table when they try to move the fork or spoon towards their mouths. Ironically, there is a reverse tendency - evidently also genetically controlled - that makes kids put a glass so close to the edge of the table that more often than not it will inadvertently be pushed over the edge. Now, I have a hunch that these 2 genes are somehow interlocked with each other. Therefore, if we find them we should be able to exchange the relevant chromosomes - I am talking in layman's terms here - and zingo! the problem of spilled food and broken glasses would be solved."
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14. KEEP ON RUNNING: HAYFEVER AS A MAJOR TOPIC IN 60s AND 70s POP SONGS
True: hardly a critic realized it at the time, but hayfever had a profound impact on socially and medically committed pop songs of the sixties and seventies. While classical music had always seemed to be totally ignorant of the topic, Anglo-American rock music suddenly focussed on a problem that had both baffled and unnerved mankind for centuries.
In retrospect there is but little doubt that one particular song initiated
an avalanche of hayfever-oriented pop lyrics. The explosive effect of Bob
Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind", released in 1963, was much later
compared by Phil Collins to that of a violent hayfever attack upon
the unsuspecting allergic individual (Collins, himself a victim
of the disease, was only 12 at the time). However, far from being militant,
the song represented the reluctant, if not shy, way in which the theme
was at first approached. The pollen, carried away by the wind, is metaphorically
described as cannonballs foreshadowing disaster, whilst the pathetic reaction
of the allergic person himself is but hinted at:
How many times must a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn't sneeze
Whereas Dylan had expressed a critical attitude towards hayfever itself, the notorious group the Move went backwards, in a sense, in one of their few hits, released in 1967. The title of the song already encapsulates their ability to put their finger on the fact that hypersensitive allergic indi-viduals anticipate their annual doom at a time when the pollen is not even dispersed yet: "I Can Hear the Grass Grow".
Not surprisingly, optimistic songs about hayfever were rarely released. "I'll feel a Whole Lot Better" by the Byrds (1965) is a case in point, allegedly written by Roger McGuinn during a se-vere sneezing fit. However, a basically pessimistic attitude undoubtedly prevailed. A typical example is "Nose for Trouble", a track on the 1966 LP What's in a Name by Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick & Tich. However, there was a song released by another group in that very same year which became much more famous, catapulting them to the top of the hit parade: "Keep on Running" by the Spencer Davies Group. It is remarkable how the group tried to provoke some kind of shock and dismay by means of personification: in a kind of dialogue with his own nose the lyrical I is eventually convinced of the inevitability of his fate and, asking the nose to "keep on running", finally accepts it. Two years before the Kinks had gone one step further by personifying the pollen itself in "You Really Got Me". This stylistic means was picked up some months later by the Dave Clark Five in "Catch Us if You Can". With the title already suggesting the sarcasm and cynicism which prevails throughout the song, it is hardly surprising that most radio stations in the United States refused to play it.
Perhaps the most controversial song was the Beach Boys hit "God Only Nose" in 1966. Brian Wilson's lyrics are ambiguous and bizarre to such an extent that a quarrel erupted between the two magazines The Melody Maker and The New Musical Express as to the question whether the song had anything to do with hayfever in the first place.
Sadly enough, the blossom time of hayfever songs was more or less over by the beginning of the seventies. There were sporadic attempts at re-introducing the topic, notably by the Hollies in their 1974 hit single "The Air that I Breathe". However, emphasis was usually put on attendant phenomena such as asthma rather than hayfever itself (compare for example the 1976 Jethro Tull hit "Locomotive Breath").
Probably the one song that marked the end of this era of hayfever-oriented lyrics was the out-standing yet little-known "Hayfever Blues" by Ben Jamieson the Fourth, released in 1978. Since it explores every facet of the disease in such a profound and melancholy way, it may serve as a conclusion to this critique, speaking both for itself and the countless songs that preceded it:
Springtime is coming
My nose starts to itch
Springtime is coming
The sonuvabitch
Hayfever's got me
My nose on the run
Said hayfever's got me
This sure ain't no fun
Won't somebody help me
Somebody please
er - sorry, folks,
I - I guess I just have to sneeze.
Hundreds of hankies
Day after day
Hundreds of hankies
Insurance won't pay
I'm blowing my nose off
I can't find no peace
I'm blowing my nose off
This disease just won't cease.
Won't somebody...
Billions of pollen
Are filling the air
Billions of pollen
Allergic? Beware!
There's no way to dodge them
There's no way to run
Hayfever's lurking
The sonuvagun.
Won't somebody...
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| 26.8.98 Yesterday a person who is not likely
to have made this up told me the following story about his 7-year-old daughter:
She came up to him in the morning and told him about this thrilling dream she had had the night before. When she suddenly stopped in the middle of the story he asked her, "Okay, so how did the dream end?" She answered, "I don't know." "What do you mean, you don't know?" "There was a commercial." |
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| For copyright reasons, I cannot select any PEANUTS comic strips
and put them on this page (If I could, there'd be dozens and dozens I would
like to include here). Therefore, I'll try to express my admiration for
Charles Schulz by simply quoting the following remarks I came across in
one of the PEANUTS books.
"Charles Schulz is the only man we know who can make a round circle, a dash, a loop, and two black spots express the following: an abiding love for Beethoven, a disillusionment with all women, or an eight-day crusade of hate against a paper kite. If Charlie Schulz jiggles the circle, spots, dash and loop one way a comic strip character named Charlie Brown will tear your heart out with man's inhumanity to man. If he wiggles them a little differently he will set you to laughing so hard your sides will ache. (Actually, he is often able to do both at the same time - which is the true mark of satire. B.W.) The ability to make these little ink scratches into facial expressions is, of course, the mark of the great cartoonist - and Charlie Schulz has been voted the greatest of them by the National Cartoonists Society." New York World Telegraph and Sun
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18. The Italian Who Went to Malta
NOTE: THIS MUST BE READ WITH AN ITALIAN ACCENT!!
| One day ima gonna Malta to bigga
hotel. Ina morning I go down to eat breakfast. I tella waitress I
wanna two pissis toast. She bring me only one piss. I tella her I want
two piss. She say go to the toilet. I say you no understand. I wanna
two piss onna my plate. She say you better no piss onna plate, you
sonna ma bitch. I don't even know the lady and she call me sonna ma
bitch. Later I go to eat inna bigga restaurant. The waitress bring me a spoon and knife but no fock. I tella her I wanna fock. She tell me everyone wanna fock. I tell her you no understand. I wanna fock on the table. She say you better not fock on the table, you sonna ma bitch. So I go back to my room inna hotel and there is no shits onna my bed. I call the manager and tella him I wanna shit. He tell me to go to toilet. I say you no understand. I wanna shit on my bed. He say you better not shit onna bed, you sonna ma bitch. I go to the checkout and the man at the desk say, "Peace on you." I say piss on you too, you sonna ma bitch. I gonna back to Italy. |
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| The other day I bumped into this brilliant piece of satire by George Mikes. I have not been able to find the source, but it must have been written in the early 70s or so - and it's still worth reading (and chuckling about) today. |
A few days ago an immigrant from Jamaica remarked : "Oh, those bloody English ... " These were his very words, 1 have witnesses to it, but naturally enough, cannot reveal their names. Another immigrant from Barbados said this: "Too many bloody English around ... They always take the best jobs." Things have come to a pretty pass. Here are two decent fellow-immigrants who in broad daylight, in my own town, complain that they cannot get proper employment because of the English.
These are the scientific facts which cry to heaven. They create an extreme urgency of action now. Just that kind of action which is hardest for a politician to take because - I am fully aware of it - it may not be popular in certain sections of the electorate. The natural and rational first question is to ask: how can the dimensions of this explosion be reduced? Some people speak of coloured immigration, of immigrants' descendants and dependants, of inflow and outflow, but actions connected with them will not help, they will not amount to more than taking out a drop from the Ocean. It almost passes belief that no one thought of the obvious solution - or no one dared to utter it - EXPEL THE ENGLISH !
Those who are the English of today came from Normandy, in 1066, causing no end of troubles to the Welsh, the Scots and the Irish - the lawful possessors of these or neighbouring lands. They all came without permits; without any certificates whatsoever. They behaved with complete disregard to local customs and laws. They practically took over the country.
And then - I am trying my best not to become offensive or discourteous but hard scientific facts must be faced - well, then they started breeding.
What are the facts? In the eleventh century, only a few hundred thousand years ago, the day before yesterday in historical terms, they numbered a bare two millions. Under Elizabeth I their number rose to five millions and at the time of Malthus, who made such a fuss about population, they still numbered eleven millions only. And what do we find today? There are over fifty millions of them (not counting the more recent, post-William immigrants) and they go on breeding.
Such is the magnitude of the threat. I do not wish to speak of the impact of this immigration: the complete disruption of the original, traditional Scottish, Irish and Welsh Way of Life. But life is just not the same as it used to be before 1066. 1 do not speak of their refusal to mix on equal terms with others: there are still large, completely white areas in the country. But I shall ask, I have to ask, what is the use of the English?
They are not very good workers; they keep organising strikes; they come forward claiming higher and higher wages and set a bad example to some recent immigrants. In business they are chasing higher and higher profits. After football matches they behave like vandals. And - it is a painful question but I must ask it - which race supplies most of the criminals? Who are the predominant race in English prisons? The English.
Nobody can make an estimate of the numbers which, with generous grants, would choose either to return to their country of origin, Normandy, or go to other countries (Jamaica or Pakistan perhaps) where their skills such as they are, might be welcome.
But do not dilly-dally, act without delay! I must seriously emphasize not only the importance but also the extreme urgency of the required measures. Judging by the rate they emigrate to Canada, Australia and a few other lands, in a few years' time, it seems, they will have left of their own free will
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| This is a beautiful scene from the film, complete in itself. I wouldn't know what Latin teachers think of it, but in my humble opinion it's light satire at its best... |
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23. Wilfred Owen: "The Last Laugh"
Here is a scathing satire by one of the most famous
poets of the First World War.
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Wilfred Owen (1893 -
1918) The Last Laugh
'O Jesus Christ! I'm hit,' he said; and died.
Another sighed, - 'O Mother, mother! Dad!' 'My Love!' one moaned. Love-languid seemed his mood,
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