Cadets for whom English is not their mother tongue soon acquire a working knowledge of the language, particularly the vernacular. Young men are not always pure of thought or word and their speech is often littered with expletives and epithets.
One cadet, however, had difficulties in learning the correct use of English. Unfortunately he was somewhat arrogant and rather a know-all and as such irritated his fellow cadets. If they tried to help him or correct his mistakes he would lose his temper and shout. One day, irate and frustrated, eyes bulging with rage, almost foaming at the mouth, he jabbed his finger angrily at the young men around him and spluttered, 'You . . . you . . . you . . . you think I know f***-nothing! I tell you, I know f***-all!'
From Wikipedia: English as She Is Spoke is the common name of a 19th century book credited to José da Fonseca and Pedro Carolino, which was intended as a Portuguese-English conversational guide or phrase book, but is regarded as a classic source of unintentional humour.
The humour appears to be a result of dictionary-aided literal translation, which causes many idiomatic expressions to be translated wildly inappropriately. For example, the Portuguese phrase chover a cântaros is translated as raining in jars, whereas an idiomatic English translation would be raining buckets.
Mark Twain said of English as She Is Spoke that "Nobody can add to the absurdity of this book, nobody can imitate it successfully, nobody can hope to produce its fellow; it is perfect."[
The RMA is a great training ground for life. Young people with a wide variety of experiences from many different countries, cultures and backgrounds live, learn and train together in the Surrey academy and its surrounding acres of countryside.
Some cadets have great personal wealth while others come from more modest homes but upbringing is unimportant. Their shared Sandhurst experiences will give them a common bond throughout their lives. Occasionally there will be a cadet whose position in life has been exalted from the day of his birth and whose demeanour proclaims it daily. One such cadet, an overseas gentleman from an influential and important family, arrived at the Academy in a Mercedes limousine at a time when most cadets, if they had cars at all, were driving bone-shakers with no shock absorbers. He was also accompanied by a remarkable entourage of servants.
This cadet had been attended by servants throughout his short life (most joined the RMA at the age of eighteen) and he was accustomed to being dressed by them. Undoubtedly they also did all his 'bulling' – spit, polish, shine. One day on parade an eagle-eyed Warrant Officer noticed that the young man's anklets were upside down; he was given a loud and thorough dressing-down which must have been quite alarming for him. Later on, the hapless servant who had unwittingly dressed his master incorrectly was given a beating. I doubt he repeated the error.
The day of the first parachute jump approaches and the cadets are apprehensive. They have dropped from great heights in a safe environment and mastered the technique of landing without breaking their legs. The theory is in place, the drills completed and they are soon to experience a real parachute descent. They feel excited, sick, frightened. Suppose the parachute doesn't open? Suppose they forget correct landing procedure? Suppose they had opted to acquire a different skill? Too late! No backing out now. Can't lose face, even though they might lose breakfast.
Their Sergeant Major is accompanying them and he will jump first. That will give them confidence. What's this? A bicycle? The aircraft reaches the dropping zone and the Sergeant Major is preparing to jump. Calmly he mounts his bicycle and rides out of the aircraft. The cadets follow eagerly, all trepidation forgotten in their quest to see what happens next.
What a way to inspire young people!
Though the preceding details are correct certain facts may have been omitted in the interests of protecting the innocent!!
Sandhurst officer cadets learn very quickly that it is unwise to do anything that might draw close attention. Talking in the ranks on parade is strictly discouraged and so the participants learn to develop extraordinary ventriloquial skills. On the parade ground impassivity is required no matter what might be happening and the cadets discover that they can display monumental self-control.
On one such occasion this self-discipline was tested to the very limit. The Warrant Officer taking the parade was an imposing Irish Guard of great stature and ferocity splendidly turned out in impeccable style. A small incident, now lost to memory, caused him to remonstrate fervently and at length with the offending cadet to the entertainment of his peers. The WO got into his verbal stride, seeking ever more amusingly cutting comments. His decibel level increased in step with his creativity. As he reached his apogee his false teeth flew out and the cadets were hard-pressed to contain their mirth.
History has not recorded how the teeth were recovered and by whom.
Though the preceding details are correct certain facts may have been omitted in the interests of protecting the innocent!!
'The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst' is variously known as 'The Academy', 'The RMA', 'The RMAS' or just simply 'Sandhurst'. It has trained countless officer cadets who all have memorable moments to recount, many of them involving the Warrant Officers who drilled them so thoroughly (some might say relentlessly).
Academy Sergeant Major J C Lord MVO MBE was an impressive character. Wounded and captured at Arnhem in 1944 he was taken to Stalag XIB Prisoner of War Camp where conditions were deplorable. Through his strength of personality and enduring military discipline RSM Lord, as he then was, raised the prisoners' morale and rebuilt their confidence and pride.
The title of Academy Sergeant Major is the highest non-commissioned rank in the British Army and there is only ever one man who carries it. All other WOs are junior in rank to him.
At officer cadets' first parade J C Lord would address them, pace stick under arm. 'Gentlemen, I will call you 'Sir' but I will not mean it. You will address me as 'Sir' and you will mean it.' ASM Lord had an extraordinary eye for detail and would spot an infringement in dress or behaviour from a great distance. With one thousand cadets on parade all dressed alike, usually in service dress, he would order his subordinates to 'fetch that idle man over there.' The Warrant Officers would scurry about seeking the miscreant and would shout, 'This one, sir?' and ASM Lord would shout back, 'No!' Another cadet would be pointed out; 'This one, sir?'
'No' would come the reply. A third unfortunate would be singled out – 'This one, sir?'
'No' was shouted back.
Eventually, with WOs trying their hardest to find the cause of their ASM's distress, 'This one, sir?' would bring the response, 'NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! – but he'll do!'
Depending on the severity of the 'crime' the culprit might then find himself detained in the Guard House, of which more anon.
Though the preceding details are correct certain facts may have been omitted in the interests of protecting the innocent!!
The tube has a handy hook allowing the user to suspend it from a convenient hanger.
The back of the tube carries important information.The heat pump was made in the Republic of China where labour is cheap and plentiful. The water connector is in metric units but everything else for the Endless Pool is in Imperial units and the two won't fit. Oops!
Problems are made for solving – and this one has been. The correct pipe is even now in the Postal System, destined to reach us tomorrow. How the mismatch occurred is a mystery never to be unravelled.
Teaching has not been the only occasion of my soliloquies. I have spent large chunks of time with small and larger children, my own and my own's own. A constant barrage of 'Why?' from earliest toddledom is followed by years of 'How do you spell . . . ?' and 'What does ?? mean?' and Where's . . . ?' interspersed with my homilies on subjects ranging from the inadvisability of wearing four-inch heels and bare legs in the middle of a cold snap to the wisdom or otherwise of sailing in a Force 9 gale.
There have always been animals around as well, mingling with children of various ages and sizes so of course they must be included in conversations and greeted on returning from outings. I reassure the birds as I set out their food and ask the fish and frogs if all is well in their watery world. The plants and trees are given encouragement and I marvel at the bees and congratulate them on their pollen-collecting skills. I even talk to spiders to ask them to please keep their distance.
There is little wonder then that I talk all the time.
Our children are grown and flown and visit frequently for short periods when everyone talks at once and no-one listens. The dogs and cats listen intently until they have been fed, watered or exercised, then they sleep. I know Barry hears me but often doesn't listen (or register) for he inhabits another planet entirely so usually I am alone, though never lonely.
The advent of the mobile phone has been a blessing for me for now it is completely normal to look as if one is talking to oneself but even thus, it is a give-away when I say enthusiastically, 'Oh, look! Look at those flowers . . . or sheep . . . or shoes' and there is no-one anywhere near me. I can never understand people who say, 'I didn't know I'd lost my voice because I didn't see anyone to talk to.' I would know instantly and then ask myself why I was whispering.
Politics has suddenly become very entertaining for all the wrong reasons. MPs' expense claims have come under scrutiny and the exercise has revealed some extraordinary behaviour. Elliot Morley (Labour) suffered a shocking lapse of memory when he continued claiming interest for a further eighteen months after he had paid his mortgage in full. He felt that he had not committed an offence but had simply forgotten. Arrogant, dishonest or stupid?
Andrew MacKay (Tory) who thinks it 'very important that MPs are held in high regard' and whose wife Julie Kirkbride is also a Conservative MP, claimed second home allowance for mortgage interest on their London home up to the end of the last financial year. At the same time his wife claimed the same allowance for their Bromsgrove home. Effectively, they had two second homes and no primary residence. Arrogant, dishonest or stupid?
Apparently they had taken professional advice 'at the highest level', and though it is not clear which body provided such advice it is believed that the fees office was involved.
The people of the UK are appalled, amused, angry, disbelieving, shocked by turns. The concensus seems to be that because ordinary citizens would be charged with committing a criminal offence if they had behaved in similar fashion the same fate should befall their guilty representatives in Parliament.
I'm sure there are many honest and intelligent MPs but presently they are sadly overshadowed by their arrogant, dishonest or stupid colleagues.
We have a rather attractive long case clock in our sitting room. It chimes the quarters and sonorously marks the hours with a resonant Westminster peal. It helpfully tells me the time in the small hours of the morning. Sometimes I am woken by vicious attacks of cramp. More often it's a fussing dog that wakes me or a cat sinking heavily into slumber on me. Occasionally my husband mutters incomprehensibly in his sleep and I hear myself attempting to answer him. The worst awakening of all comes courtesy of a nameless occurrence that might have been dreamt but has brought me to full wakefulness, alert, wide-eyed, heart pounding, listening. I feel that I am pricking my ears to catch passing murmurs; actually I'm lifting my head from the pillow to allow binaural hearing as the tension in my neck muscles attests.
Usually I wake around 2:00 a.m. Often I hear three, four and five o'clock strike. Sometimes I read. At other times I play mind games. Now and then I give up all attempts at rest and go downstairs 'to get a jump on the day.' Making an early start makes no difference to the way the house runs; there are enough tasks to fill twenty-four hours every day and many of them are overlooked or put off to a mythical other day.
Several times recently I have woken about 3:00 a.m. On the first occasion it was to clean up after a poorly dog. The next time I woke and knew within a short time that sleep would not welcome me back to her loving arms so crept downstairs in the dark. Why I moved quietly I do not know. The other sleepers in the night never wake when I'm tramping round the bedroom in agony from cramp. I could have flooded the house with light for no-one stirs when I read till my eyes cross with weariness. There's just something about going downstairs in the middle of the night that urges me to tread silently in the gloom, breathe evenly, whisper. I fill the kettle, hoping no-one will be disturbed by the water running through the pipes. I press into action various machines, trusting their noise will not act as alarms.
The second time gave me the opportunity to see the sun rise and to photograph it. At such times I vow that I will always rise early for it is truly a lovely time. I feel privileged to hear the day arrive, for the birds begin to sing while it is still dark and the participants in the chorus grow in number as dawn approaches. I enjoy the tranquillity of early morning and find pleasure in welcoming the new day.
Yesterday at three o'clock I went downstairs with Buddy Liver Spots who was restless and seemed uncomfortable. I gave him a snack but that didn't settle him so I stayed in the sitting room with him. He went to sleep and I dozed, alerted every fifteen minutes by the clock. Monty climbed onto my lap and kept me warm.
Once again Buddy woke me at 0300 hours this morning. After I let him out he fell asleep. I did some chores and read. Barry appeared an hour later and I made a pot of tea while he livened up the fire. A little later we saw a large, handsome fox trotting purposefully across the patio. He was in no hurry and we were reminded once more that our garden is ours in name only. We may own the deeds but the territory belongs to the descendants of the animals and birds that lived here long before man put his mark on the area.
