English - why I hate Americans

Okay Druid, barrels lowered, though I did rather enjoy the brief skirmish. Let’s do it again sometime. It’s not only a Lanckerry descendent who can do ‘feisty’. :slight_smile:
My rant did serve to assuage the boiling frustration I feel when forced into confronting my own limitations. But I nonetheless remain intensely wary of the pernicious American spell checker. It is the binary equivalent of The Terminator, having just one terrible and consuming purpose: to correct. AND. IT. WILL. NEVER. STOP.

Why not create your own spellcheck program? I’m sure if it’s high quality it will sell well in the UK.

And BTW, the Americans have had far less effect on your native language than the British had on, say, the native languages of India.

Things change.

I’d love to think that was a possibility but, in truth, I don’t have the requisite skills. My last programming efforts were back in the dark days of DOS. Where technology is concerned I think, these days, I’d prefer to remain just a consumer.

You’re right of course but, while it’s an interesting observation it’s not really relevant to my complaint. When I’m chuntering and fulminating over the dotted red underline, the last thing I’m thinking about is the British occupation of India – but perhaps I should… :confused:

Actually, India should thank you for giving it English. The language is helping unite the country and make it competitive in the world economy. Furthermore, we Americans and you Brits should thank our lucky stars that English and not some other language has become the planet’s common tongue.

Still, computer programmers at Apple are able to solve the spelling problem. And solve it they should.

The spoils go to the winner.

Britain lost the war.

:slight_smile:

Awwaaayyy!! Y wazzak! Y torkin crap as yoosual. We...[b]let[/b]...you win. Feck me! downt y no nuthing
Every nation writes its own history books. The problum with yous lot, is ycarn`t spell!

Having grown up with both BBC (and multiple other UK channels) and tons of US programmes, I ended up speaking a mixture of both. It took a while to sort it out so I didn’t confuse my English friends by saying something about pants when I mean trousers (‘I bought new pants! Want to see them?’ could cause a certain weirdness amongst friends…)
I do not remember if I knew about ‘trash’… I do use ‘put it in the bin’ when speaking to UK-friends and ‘put it in the trash’ when speaking to my US-friends, because they use it like that.

Why do English people get twisted out of shape over that? (which I may have misinterpreted as getting upset over it, I still have a lot of sayings I haven’t figured out yet)

Tanja

Having plenty of experience from both sides of the pond I think my favourite source of confusion has to do with what a ‘rubber’ is for and how you go about ‘knocking someone up’.

being “pissed” is another that can bring confusion.

As I grew up in Australia I had a healthy dollop of language from both side of the ponds, and then additionally my own special words.

Like sandshoes, thongs, esky and stickybeak.

Go west to New Zealand and you get to talk about chilly bins and judderbars.

Judderbars? Now that sounds like just MY sort of waterhole. :smiley:

…from Australia? That’s taking rather the long way around, isn’t it?

erm… * quick scramble round for a plausible excuse, so as not to admit complete stupidity * I was looking at it from the corrected map of the world perspective.

Gorran answer for everything! Aint`y tch!

The Wizard, an eccentric in Canterbury NZ used to sell a map like that, reversed.

It got you thinking about why all maps point North. Why Britain is so large and Australia by comparison so small.

Drive 3 days from London and you are in Istanbul after having crossed many countries and cultures.
Drive 3 days from Sydney and you are in Melbourne.

Paul

And yet the +3 can harass you not matter how long you travel.

BWAHAHAHAH!!

Let me guess: “Daddy, are we there yet?”

Actually, with Aussies, it’s like the old story …

A farmer from New England visited a former school-mate, now a rancher in Texas. As he picked him up at the airport, the Texan kept going on about how big his house was, how many cows he had … After lunch he took the New Englander out for a tour of the ranch and as they got in the jeep, the Texan said, “Y’know … I can get in my jeep and drive in a straight line all day, and I still won’t reach the end of my ranch!”
“I know what you mean,” replied the New Englander, “I had a jeep just like that once!”

Mark

LOL! :mrgreen:

I used to visit the US quite often, and most of the people I met did enjoy what they called “german humour”. Odd, I always thought, I do know german, but I never encountered any trace of humour in it. Then it struck me: it’s my teachers fault, they taught british english, which, if taught right, is a pretty good base for developing irony.
It has never been me being particularly funny, but somehow my strict application of german thought for producing english sentences resulted into irony. The brits I met … thats another story.

Ah, well, I did miss the point of this thread, didn’t I? [size=200]Enjoy the diversity.[/size]

Can’t change it anyway, now can you? So, to avoid reflux and a lot other unpleasantries, embrace it.

Amen! Homogeneity may be comforting and convenient, but variation can be interesting. Plus, it can be awfully funny!

I’ve probably told this story before, so if you’ve already heard it, just ignore the rest of this post. Before I was a lawyer, I worked as a newspaper editor in a little town about 50 miles south of Akron, where I was raised, and where I now live. Though the little town is in Ohio, just like Akron, it seemed the people there spoke a completely different language! (Every week, without fail, someone told me, “Y’ain’t from ‘roun’ here, are 'ya?” It went on for the entire four years I spent there.)

One day, the editor in charge of the opinion page asked me to proofread his weekly column. In it, he recalled how, when the newspaper was printed in the afternoons, his young son had a paper route, and in the winters, the boy would “put a toboggan on his head,” and trudge through the snow to deliver newspapers to his customers.

I was puzzled and a little horrified. How, I wondered, could a 10-year-old boy have put a toboggan onto his head? “Why would he put it on his head?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that have been pretty heavy?”

“No. He put it on to keep warm,” came the perplexed reply. It didn’t help. I was still confused. So was my colleague.

After the editor and I stared at each other in befuddlement for a second or two, the editor realized the problem.

“Jacqi, you just ain’t from 'round here,” he said. " 'Round here, a toboggan is a knitted hat. What is it up north, where you’re from?"

“It’s a 40-pound wooden sled!” I replied. :laughing: