Na zo'n bijna achttien jaar voor hetzelfde ''Engelstalige'' bedrijf gewerkt te hebben en zo'n veertig jaar Engelse sitcoms en biografieën te hebben gelezen en gezien, mag ik voor mezelf wel concluderen dat de Engelse taal geen geheimen meer kent voor mij. Men kan mij zo in Engeland plaatsen en ik kan me volledig verstaanbaar maken in beschaafd Engels en zelfs met bepaalde dialecten kan ik me verstaanbaar maken. Ik spreek en schrijf nog net geen Gaelic maar voor andere dialecten en bijvoorbeeld Iers-Engels en Schots-Engels geldt wel dat ik er handig mee kan omgaan. We kunnen gerust spreken van een Engels knobbel. Je hebt er in Nederland misschien niet zo veel aan, maar uiteraard in veel andere landen wel.
En daarom wilde ik vandaag jullie een fictief verhaaltje voorschotelen in het Engels. Het is grappig bedoeld, raakt kant noch wal. Maar ik was eens benieuwd of jullie dit kunnen volgen. En om jullie eens te laten lachen. Want dat schijnt nog altijd mijn sterkste punt te zijn, humor. En dat ben ik wel met jullie eens. Lachen is belangrijk, gezond en ontzettend nodig.
Zijn jullie er klaar voor? Dan komt hier het verhaal van de prins en de Cornish pasty!
When i woke up this morning after a few hours of kip i decided it was time for a complete and utter change of my life. No more wondering around not knowing what to do, but to stick up my guns and actually do it. I saundered to the mirror and looked into it. Yeah, i saw the dog's bollocks looking like a million quid. I was looking like an absolute stunner. I walked down the pantry to get me some grub to start the day. Decided to go for Kedgeree, some leftover kippers and wash that down with some strong brew. You know what they say, if you want to eat well in England, you should have breakfast three time a day.
I went to the Khazi to do me business. Took the sausage wrapper with me, because when sitting on the bog you better spend your time wisely. Came to find out there was an add in the paper, some geezer wanted to flog his car. That car he was selling was one i dearly wanted for so many years. It was a 1976 Morris Traveller. The price was decent so i decided to hop on the old dog and bone to get some inquiries. The guy answered by the name of Prince William Arthur Philip Louis. Never heared of the bloke before, but that was not of my interest. I just wanted to buy his motor. I asked him if he still had this vehicle for sale. He said yes, so i asked him if i could pop round to see it. He agreed and i jumped on the old steel horse to go and see it.
When i arrived at his place i was gobsmacked. His house was as big as a booze cruise hypermarket. Gardens and small outbuildings everywhere. Don't faff around, i said to myself, get to the door tout suite! I rang his doorbell and a geezer dressed up like Jeeves opened the door. ''Can i be of your assistance, sir?''. Yes, i said. I am here to look at a Blower. Jeeves let me in and called out William. When i saw William i thought ''Blooming Hell, did he step out of Downton Abbey?''. He introduced himself and i cut straight down to the brass Monkey. ''Can i see the Morris, please?''. Certainly i could. He walked to a small outbuilding on the premises and he opened the door.
''Blimey, you got a fair old bit of kit inside here, have ya?''. It's from 1976 he said, but the car looks mint and drives beautifully. The motor was nice. Not a speck of rust on it, looked like it came straight from the Malvern Prep. ''Can i take it for a spin?'' i asked. Ofcourse. So i stepped into the car, got it started and drove around a little on his majestic lawn. The car felt nice, steady and most of all straight. This was the car i wanted. How much, i asked? "For you, today, done and dusted, 2500 quid!''. The price was not bad, but nevertheless i tried to haggle. ''I'll give you 2000 smackers for it''. ''That's a littlebit low, mate. But you know what i do.......i come down to 2200''. I was thinking, this is a good price. So i spit my hand, shook his hand and payed him the dough in cash. ''Thank you, sir'' he said. ''Care for a tummy buster to seal the deal?''. I agreed.
Back in his house he opened a bottle from what i thought it was some sort of sweet liqueur. He poured out a glass, poured his and said ''Down the hatch!''. The stuff was so strong it brought tears to me peepers. ''Good stuff, innit? Napoleon used to drink this during the battle of Waterloo''. I said, ''No wonder he lost the war, mate. This stuff is as dirty as a drunken sailor!''. He offered me a Cornish pasty but i declined as i had a heavy breakfast. So i shook his hand, put my bike into the boot of the car and drove off home.
When i got home i parked the car, took my bike out of the boot and closed it. And then i realised it. ''Cor....Prince William Arthur Philip Louis? That is the price of Wales, mate. You bought a car off Royalty!''. I had to laugh. Yesterday evening i felt like a nobody, one morning-look into the mirror later and you met Royalty. From a bit of a chaffer, firing blanks all the time to a boy racer in about fifteen hours!
Then i woke up with my undies half undone. It was all a dream. No Morris, no Prince. Just me with a wooden head from all the booze beforenight. Ah well. At least i was looking like a toyboy in shining armor!
Volgende week : Soep, Oma's Soep en hoe deze als een rode draad door mijn leven loopt. Fijn weekend!
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