Teaching Americans How to Speak English
A satirical guide from England on how Americans can finally speak the Queen’s English properly
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Good evening.
It does seem odd to me, as a proud Englishman and an active defender of Her Majesty’s English, that the language we donated to the Americans has not been taken care of. You might think that after we withdrew in 1776, they would have the good grace to be grateful for the language of Shakespeare.
I fear not. They move ever deeper into a linguistic pit of their own making, trying to drag the rest of the world down with them. The spelling is only one part of their problem. The coarseness of their commentary is something much worse.
I am not some dry old pompous stick-in-the-mud, far from it! I can boogie and jitterbug with the best of them, as long as the music isn’t too loud. And I am certainly not some preaching know-it-all from the land of your fathers.
It is with some regret that I need to explain some things to you — to “reach out,” to use a rather ugly phrase. I am hardly going to reach out of my screen now, am I — apart from the strength of my commentary, of course.
But with matters coming to a head regarding the decline of the American language, I am determined to offer my valuable assistance. We don’t “praise the good” in England. We do “naughty step,” and the whole of America needs to go and sit on it and have a damn good think.
It does seem odd to me, as a proud Englishman and an active defender of Her Majesty’s English, that the language we donated to the Americans has not been taken care of. You might think that after we withdrew in 1776, they would have the good grace to be grateful for the language of Shakespeare.
I fear not. They move ever deeper into a linguistic pit of their own making, trying to drag the rest of the world down with them. The spelling is only one part of their problem. The coarseness of their commentary is something much worse.
I am not some dry old pompous stick-in-the-mud, far from it! I can boogie and jitterbug with the best of them, as long as the music isn’t too loud. And I am certainly not some preaching know-it-all from the land of your fathers.
It is with some regret that I need to explain some things to you — to “reach out,” to use a rather ugly phrase. I am hardly going to reach out of my screen now, am I — apart from the strength of my commentary, of course.
But with matters coming to a head regarding the decline of the American language, I am determined to offer my valuable assistance. We don’t “praise the good” in England. We do “naughty step,” and the whole of America needs to go and sit on it and have a damn good think.
The New Yorker
I was inspired to start lecturing Americans after a correspondence with The New Yorker. I had read one of their so-called articles by one of their so-called writers while I was in the doctor’s waiting room.
A stack of magazines was available to peruse. As it is a Harley Street doctor, the reading material is passable. Not like the State system, where you find yourself glancing at headlines like “My Dad’s Lover Made Me Ashamed.” I don’t care what you’re ashamed of; if you’re truly that ashamed, why write about it in the first place?
So I chose The New Yorker. I made sure to choose an article that didn’t refer to that part of me which was due for examination. I am being delicate here, something America seems to have forgotten about. I eventually found a piece to read.
My dear friend, and I mean that insincerely, the writing was appalling. Shorthand misspelled words of English, but not the Queen’s English. Shakespeare misspelled words and made some up, I believe, but that was different. For a start, he was English.
I wrote a letter to The New Yorker expecting at least an apology and a printed retraction. There was no response. A few weeks later, a friend showed me how to communicate through their “Website,” and I sent a number of “emails,” which are like instant letters. Instant or not, there was still no response. I splashed out on a transatlantic telephone call. The conversation was brief and peppered with the phrases that so annoy me.
Ironically, the editor demanded that I “start speaking English” at one point. Well, that set me off, I can tell you. Unfortunately, while I was explaining for the umpteenth time, the line went dead — a technical problem with the international phone call, I assume.
At least I will have made them sit up from their usual slouched positions and take notice.
I was inspired to start lecturing Americans after a correspondence with The New Yorker. I had read one of their so-called articles by one of their so-called writers while I was in the doctor’s waiting room.
A stack of magazines was available to peruse. As it is a Harley Street doctor, the reading material is passable. Not like the State system, where you find yourself glancing at headlines like “My Dad’s Lover Made Me Ashamed.” I don’t care what you’re ashamed of; if you’re truly that ashamed, why write about it in the first place?
So I chose The New Yorker. I made sure to choose an article that didn’t refer to that part of me which was due for examination. I am being delicate here, something America seems to have forgotten about. I eventually found a piece to read.
My dear friend, and I mean that insincerely, the writing was appalling. Shorthand misspelled words of English, but not the Queen’s English. Shakespeare misspelled words and made some up, I believe, but that was different. For a start, he was English.
I wrote a letter to The New Yorker expecting at least an apology and a printed retraction. There was no response. A few weeks later, a friend showed me how to communicate through their “Website,” and I sent a number of “emails,” which are like instant letters. Instant or not, there was still no response. I splashed out on a transatlantic telephone call. The conversation was brief and peppered with the phrases that so annoy me.
Ironically, the editor demanded that I “start speaking English” at one point. Well, that set me off, I can tell you. Unfortunately, while I was explaining for the umpteenth time, the line went dead — a technical problem with the international phone call, I assume.
At least I will have made them sit up from their usual slouched positions and take notice.
Silly American Mistakes
This is a brief overview of one of the key topics I will be covering in my lecture series. It covers some examples of the appalling slippage in standards since we withdrew from America and left them to it. I use this section to inject a note of humour into my talks. Fascinating though they are, I can sometimes see eyes closing as I near the halfway point of the four-hour session.
This is a brief overview of one of the key topics I will be covering in my lecture series. It covers some examples of the appalling slippage in standards since we withdrew from America and left them to it. I use this section to inject a note of humour into my talks. Fascinating though they are, I can sometimes see eyes closing as I near the halfway point of the four-hour session.
- Butt. This gets a laugh until I start explaining. A short word which, as they can’t spell or pronounce correctly, has apparently replaced “bottom.”
- Howdy-doody. If someone said that to me, I would assume they were under the influence. In their childlike way, they are searching for the phrase “Good day, Sir.”
- My bad. The most brief and flippant way to excuse a wrongdoing. No hint of remorse or regret for one’s actions. A British man with mastery of the language and a thousand years of chivalry behind him would say, “I apologise sincerely for any inconvenience.”
- Pants. Pants go underneath clothing in the UK. They remain clean and invisible until we die. We wear trousers — with pants underneath. I don’t delve into the subject further to avoid ribaldry among young people in the audience.
- WTF. It took quite a lot of research to understand this. It is only because it appeared in several response messages to me from Americans that I bothered. I would prefer a simple “goodness me” if you need to express surprise.
My Upcoming Lecture Tour
I have arranged with the organisation Writing The American Future to produce a series of lessons and classes. These well-written and light-hearted pieces will be used to teach children to raise themselves up from the guttural slang learned from their parents. Not their “folks,” by the way. Their PARENTS.
The WTAF are a reputable organisation that I found via The Google. That’s a search engine for those who may be less familiar with modern technology than I. They were the top search result, which is very encouraging.
For a modest, although not inexpensive, signing-up fee, they have arranged for me to host a series of English-speaking lectures at theatres across California. It is one of the places that most needs my expert advice, I understand.
They suggested I use the song “Express Yourself” as my walk-on music. It would help to engage with the common classes among the expected crowds. I have listened to a few seconds of it, and it seems catchy enough, although I am no expert in modern music. You can’t beat The Beatles — their early stuff, before all the hair. A British band, of course. Nothing from the other side of the pond has ever come close.
Nb: By ‘pond,’ I am referring to the Atlantic Ocean. I wouldn’t usually slip into such lazy vernacular, but it is part of building a relationship with ordinary people, something that I pride myself on. “Never sound like you’re speaking down to them” was the advice from my alma mater — I do my best, really I do.
I have arranged with the organisation Writing The American Future to produce a series of lessons and classes. These well-written and light-hearted pieces will be used to teach children to raise themselves up from the guttural slang learned from their parents. Not their “folks,” by the way. Their PARENTS.
The WTAF are a reputable organisation that I found via The Google. That’s a search engine for those who may be less familiar with modern technology than I. They were the top search result, which is very encouraging.
For a modest, although not inexpensive, signing-up fee, they have arranged for me to host a series of English-speaking lectures at theatres across California. It is one of the places that most needs my expert advice, I understand.
They suggested I use the song “Express Yourself” as my walk-on music. It would help to engage with the common classes among the expected crowds. I have listened to a few seconds of it, and it seems catchy enough, although I am no expert in modern music. You can’t beat The Beatles — their early stuff, before all the hair. A British band, of course. Nothing from the other side of the pond has ever come close.
Nb: By ‘pond,’ I am referring to the Atlantic Ocean. I wouldn’t usually slip into such lazy vernacular, but it is part of building a relationship with ordinary people, something that I pride myself on. “Never sound like you’re speaking down to them” was the advice from my alma mater — I do my best, really I do.
Summary
It will be great fun meeting so many of my American fans when I arrive there next month. I am sure we will have gay times together — using the word in its original sense, of course. Not that I have anything against the gay community, mind you — many of my learned colleagues have long sat on that side of the church.
See you soon, or, as they say in the modern slang, “See you around.”
It will be great fun meeting so many of my American fans when I arrive there next month. I am sure we will have gay times together — using the word in its original sense, of course. Not that I have anything against the gay community, mind you — many of my learned colleagues have long sat on that side of the church.
See you soon, or, as they say in the modern slang, “See you around.”