Sunday, September 14, 2008

English Phrases

British Phrase - Approximate U.S. Meaning
Example, if appropriate
Note: Most of these were new to me, a couple were not. They are all, in my opinion, lesser known in the U.S. and by virtue of being listed here, they were phrases I actually heard someone in the UK use (although the example does not necessarily reflect the context in which I first heard the phrase).
  • Gypsy’s kiss – take a leak
    After my third pint, I went for a gypsy's kiss
  • Tipple – generalization for a drink or refreshment
    Fancy a tipple?
  • Sherbert - refers more directly to a specific beverage
    Shane fancied a tipple after work, so we stopped into the pub for a few sherberts.
  • Blooded – drunk
    We stopped for a few sherberts after work and got blooded.
  • Good'n - singular or plural way of saying a 'good one'; expression of goodness
    After a few sherberts, times were good'n.
  • Bits - pieces or parts
    After I put the unit together there were a few bits left over.
  • Bob’s your uncle - simple, guaranteed success
    You take the bits off the plane, put the new bits on, Bob's your uncle, parts are good'n.
  • Brick shithouse - a measure of speed and agility
    With only one engine working, that plane will fly like a brick shithouse.
  • Shit off a shovel - fast
    A brick shithouse would fall out of the sky faster than shit off a shovel.
  • Jacket potato - baked potato
  • Spot on - perfect; well done
  • Useless as tits on a warthog - impractical
    Without any street signs, following directions in England is as useless as tits on a warthog.
  • Bees knees - sweet; awesome
    My new International cell phone is bees knees.
  • Fuck that for a game of soldiers - to give up or refuse to do something; expression of disgust or futility
    When we approached the parking structure and saw that it was closed--with our car still inside--Kevin exclaimed "fuck that for a game of soldiers".
  • Gutted - to feel awful about something
    The bus driver was just gutted about having to charge us two pounds for a five minute ride.
  • Shag ass - An expression of extreme speed
    When we finally got back to the parking lot, we paid our bill and shagged ass out of there.
  • More than you can shake a hairy stick at - a lot
    England has more roundabouts than you can shake a hairy stick at.
  • Skinful – to have lots to drink
    We stopped at the pub and had a skinful.
  • Ham shank - stupid American tourist
    The cabbie tried to charge us twelve pounds for an eight pound cab ride, he must have thought I was a pretty big ham shank.
  • Wanker - an idiot or a person who likes to show off
  • Cheers - thanks; have a good day
  • She's the cat's mother - a rebuke for referring to a woman as "she" instead of by her name
  • Bin - verb meaning "to throw something away"
    I no longer needed the report so I binned it
  • Someone wearing much longer trousers than mine - someone more important or with more authority than I have
    The decision to buy a new car will have to be made by someone with much longer trousers than mine.
  • Sort your dog out - to get something in order, like a barking dog
  • Go on then
  • It doesn't take the brains of an arch bishop
  • Brilliant - excellent, totally cool
    You have to go see the new Bourne movie, it's brilliant.
  • Canteen - cafeteria
  • Nick - Jail also nicked - to get arrested
  • Smiling assassin
  • Useless as a chocolate teapot
  • Square root of useless
  • Hoover - v. the act of vacuuming
  • Craic pronounced crack - fun; jolly good time

Monday, July 21, 2008

English Lesson #12: No Recuerdo

My fellow Road Scholar, Chris, started bugging me to write an update about our trip to BarcelonaEngland. ever since we got on the plane to fly back to I figure I better write the update and get Chris off my back before an entire year goes by since the trip. In case you’ve been in a Road Scholars vacuum, the delayed update is due in large part to the topic of another TRS blog: The Speed Bump Chronicles. But I’m not here to make excuses, I’m here to tell stories; and this story will have to be told mainly in pictures because, quite honestly, I don’t remember much of it. That’s a function of both how much time has passed and how much of a good time we had.

After my harem left, I had exactly ten days to myself before my friend and veteran Road Scholar Chris Pasley arrived. Chris would be with me for two weekends and we planned overnight trips for each one. After much debate, it was decided we would visit Barcelona, Spain the first weekend and hang out in London on weekend number two. We planned London for the second weekend so Chris could stay closer to the airport to catch his flight home. Unfortunately, that meant after his ten hour flight from Los Angeles, he would have the privilege of hanging out at Heathrow airport until I met up with him to catch our flight to Barcelona.

By now it should be a forgone conclusion that I didn’t travel anywhere without my new Road Scholar companion, Mark. We left work about noon on Friday and headed to the airport. To avoid having to take the train, Mark decided to simply return his rental car for the weekend, a strategy he’d already used for previous trips. The plan was working wonderfully. We dropped off the car, took the shuttle to our terminal, and made the rendezvous with Chris without a hitch (I sent Jen’s cell phone home with the girls and Chris picked it up from them before flying out from LA so I could communicate with him after he arrived in London).

Mark and I made our way to the check in counter at Iberia airlines. With plenty of time to kill between flights, Chris had already checked in for the short flight to Barcelona. Iberia’s check in procedure was very much like the procedure at Venice’s Marco Polo airport; flight numbers are listed on an electronic status board and next to them the numbers of the ticket counters that are processing that flight. Mark and I checked the board: counters one through six. We stood in line for counter number six because it was the closest to us. It soon became apparent that we picked the slowest line available. Everybody was moving faster than we were. Several times we contemplated switching lines, but finally decided we had too much invested and Murphy would likely not be on our side. We stayed put. Finally, it was our turn. We were in the wrong line. Flights to Barcelona were being handled at counters one through five. I was furious, but there was a hint of a language barrier and, after my speech to the girls about keeping a low profile, I was trying to practice what I preach. I mumbled under my breath that the sign said one through six and Mark and I dragged our bags over to the line for desks one through five, which of course by now was the longest line in the place.

Eventually we arrived in Barcelona. Usually when I travel to a new city, especially one with a rail system, I bring along with me one of those laminated streetwise maps that includes points of interests and mass transit stops. I must have been in vacation mode for Barcelona because we took the tram from the airport, arrived in the main train station, and had absolutely no clue where we were trying to go. It took me about thirty minutes of flipping through maps in a gift shop to remember I brought the GPS with me. This is what happens when I travel sober. This is probably a good time to mention the weather in Barcelona was beautiful. Compared to England, the 80 degrees in Spain felt like Vegas in the summertime. I think the heat was starting to affect me, and I was definitely getting parched. Another thirty minutes of figuring out the rail system and we finally were on our way to the hotel.

Barcelona is famous for many things: the works of Antoni Gaudi, including Las Pedreras and Sagrada Familia; Las Ramblas, a huge pedestrian retail and restaurant zone; its sea port; the Olympic park from the 1992 summer games; topless beaches; and, of course, tapas. We took it all in. Mark even got solicited by a prostitute at Las Ramblas. Nicest place. From one liter cervezas at the sea port to our ad hoc pub crawl on the back alleys of Las Ramblas to Chris’ purchase of the green fairy, a good time was had by all…at least that’s what it looks like from the pictures.