SPEAK ENGLISH! OR MAYBE SOMETHING ELSE!

A postmaster in Nottingham, England, will refuse to serve people if they cannot speak English.


Quote:
Deva Kumarasiri, who moved to England from Sri Lanka 18 years ago, runs the Sneinton Boulevard Post Office.

Mr Kumarasiri said he could not serve people if he did not understand what they were asking for.


Source:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/nottinghamshire/7951778.stm


"I am part of a service but how can I serve them if I don't understand what they are asking for?"

The 40-year-old felt he was only asking people to make the same efforts he had done himself.

"I was born and raised in a different country, my language was different, my religion was different. But when I came to England I obeyed the British way of life, I got into the British way of life. That is what I ask everyone else to do - respect the country where you are working and living."

Ina Norgate, 49, from Sneinton, said: "I agree with him. It's a bit ignorant to come here and not speak the language. If you went to France you would have to learn French."

But Mohammed Ahmed, 22, also from the area, disagreed. "This is a multicultural society and this is not right really," he said. "If they come here to work, it's their right to stay here even if they speak their own language. Some people can't speak English but they can learn the language once they come here."

Afzal Sadif from the Nottingham Racial Equality Council said Mr Kumarasiri's stance was "unacceptable".
"This is a public service, the Post Office is there for everybody and we seriously have to look at the stereotypical view he's coming across with. In the long run, I believe, if we're living in Britain, over the course of the years, you have to speak English to get by but you can't force it upon people."

--------------------------------

I am of two minds about this. On the one hand, I can understand that multilingualism is neither necessary for daily life nor something that can be enforced. On the other hand, learning another language is not as easy as the monolingualists fondly make it out to be.
[Oops, wait - that's really the same hand! Oh well.]

English, as you may have heard, is not the easiest language in the world (even though a derivative of English, known as Tokpisin, arguably is). We need not even mention the insane spelling of this language (strictly for the birds).
And there are some parts of the world where English has pronunciations and usages which deviate ENORMOUSLY from standard speech - among others: Karachi, Mumbai, and Yorkshire. This adds a dimension of dificulty.

Nevertheless, how hard is it to communicate with someone who wishes to give you money? It isn't as if the two of you will be discussing deep philosphical concepts, analyses of theology, or a recent Swedish movie filled with angst and weltschmertz.

"Goot efternun! Ee vish to be aporchessing wan stemp. Hit iz for mey emblop, that iz tu be gowung tu Salamibod in Pekkiston. Vich is laik Hindia, tatahpi reet nixt dawar. Eeh yes? Ewe 'nerstending pliz? Hir er saveril koo-ins, vitch iz tu sey, wan pawand & fir shilleng. Ee think ewe, hazoor."

See? How hard is that? Just take the money.
Weltschmertz absolutely requires fluent English. Commerce, meh, not so much.


Anti-Irish attitudes haven't been acceptable, even in Britain or Massachusetts, in several decades.

Welshmen and Valley Girls are a different matter.

IF IT STINKS IT MIGHT BE EPIC

It turns out that I am a much more patient and tolerant person than Savage Kitten. If you've read this blog for a while, this may surprise you no end. But it is nevertheless the unvarnished truth.

Years ago she borrowed 'The DaVinci Code' from the library to see what all the hoopla was about. I think she got halfway through the first page before deciding that it was a load of bollocks and popular only because people are idiots. On the other hand I got through nearly two pages before deciding de gustibus non disputandem est, the writing in this thing is bad, meh.

We also tried to watch 'Last Year in Marienbad' together. A more pretentious piece of artistic excrescence is hard to imagine. She watched five minutes and concluded that it stank, I saw at least fifteen minutes before regretfully realizing that there was no plot, the characters were flat and unlikable, the dialogue jejeune and pointless, and the cinematography repetitive and derivative.


THE LEGEND OF THE BLACK SCORPION

Last night we sat down to watch 'The Legend of the Black Scorpion', starring Zhang Ziyi and Daniel Wu, directed by Feng Xiaogang. Less than ten minutes into it, she disappeared into the other room, having several times pronounced it a stinker.
Except for a smoke break during which I fixed myself a whiskey and water, I sat through the whole thing.

I think I now understand why Chinese novelists like to feature extended families of several hundred named characters in their works - if, in a fit of pique, they decide to kill off everybody they'll have plenty of scope for creative murder.
The Legend Of The Black Scorpion is a blood-spatter epic. Played for beauty and importance rather than laughs. It is inspired by Hamlet, as interpreted by either Macchiavelli or Ingmar Bergman.
Zhang Ziyi is Hamlet's mom during the period between the T'ang Dynasty and Sung, when the empire was in turmoil and several houses competed for power. Hamlet, in the person of Wu Luan (Daniel Wu), is the crown prince. An artistic sort of chappie, who heads into the distant and semi-barbaric south in a funk once his dad marries Wan'er (Zhang Ziyi), where he stages very meaningful stage pieces in a forest setting for an audience of nil comma nil spectators. Very meaningful! You can tell by the angst that drips off the screen. His dad subsequently gets whacked by his uncle, who then takes Zhang Ziyi as his wife. Several uninteresting plot-twists later, everybody dies of poison or violence.

I thoroughly enjoyed the dramatic deaths of the uncle (poison-suicide) and the empress (surprise sword through the chest). These were very nice. Lots of other people also die in this movie, but in boring ways.
I got the distinct impression that no one was chosen for their acting ability.

However, it is a visually striking movie. Absolutely beautiful. The cinematography deserves kudos. Despite the not-particularly inspired writing, and unsubtle ripp-off of Shakespeare's little Danish adventure, this movie is big, bold, brassy, and epic.
When you watch it, mute the sound and invent your own dialogue.

WHITE CHICKS JIGGING TO BAD MUSIC

That, more or less, sums up the movie 'The Beach Girls and the Monster'. Yes, this qualifies as one of the most pointless movies of all times. Putrid pile of dreck barely begins to describe it.


I enjoyed it immensely and heartily recommend it.


The special effects are special in the same way as brain-damage is special - and you might feel that you have been damaged after watching this movie. The acting is appalling, the writing is miserable, and the production values completely non-existent.
It is gorgeous. If other bad movies are sedate virgins putting on trollop makeup for the first time, this movie is a proud harlot flashing huge garish boobs of badness. So grab the popcorn and make an evening of it.


THE BEACH GIRLS AND THE MONSTER
1965, directed by Jon Hall, starring Jon Hall (!), Arnold Lessing, and Sue Casey.

Warning: includes bikinis, bongo drums, and really stupid dialogue.


The basic premise is that a giant fish-monster is killing surfers. Especially slow-moving surfers. Who are on the beach, not in the water - they're never in the water, there is no actual surfing in this movie. But there are plenty of scantily-clad white chicks jigging to bad music, so it's not a total loss, though it may very well make you embarrassed about white people dancing.

Of course, you could instead cringe over the music. That too would be an appropriate reaction. I assume that you are already comfortable with bad acting and horrid scripts?

Spoiler: The monster is an angry fish doctor dressed in a cheesy costume who hates beach bums, teenagers, and his wife. He does them in by first trying to choke them, then clumsily slashing their face with his clawed hand. This surprises them so much that they die of shock.
We know that it cannot be because of blood loss - the producers forgot to include fake-blood in the budget.

Ooh, there are those white chicks jigging again! Same tune, too!