our england not powderful enough

If there is a funny bone in the brain mine is tickled pink after learning about the latest National Epidemic -- Bad English (apropos to the topic what happened to that rock band...).

Apparently, some Power That Be deems our 'gasp of Engrish is fine but not prefect enough lah' (my inspired garble, not his). What? As compared to the mainland Chinese or offshore Eskimo?? Hah.

Anyway, tickled pink I was as I recalled, with fiendish delight, morsels of phonetic faux pas committed by people gathered through eavedropping or bitching with linguru friends.

After learning that a college friend got pregnant, the irrepressible Uber Bimbotica in my Arts Fac spluttered this immortal but unforgivable fart:

'She go to a very top range goonycologees one'.

*tight brain cringe*

What's more, this totally hopelessly clueless tongue-challenged walking dartboard of a bimbo who can't even 'pronoun her nim' to save her eyeballs is now unfortunately but ACTUALLY working in a Financial Times subsidiary - REALLY!!

There is no Gourd.

If she ever gets pregnant I'm gonna stuff her kid in a goony sack...

I can't decide whether this linguistic rapist is really clueless or gets a kick from doing it but what amazes me is she does it so sincerely and innocently!

In her bloodied world, we would be shopping in Crabby and Evil (I kid you not!), eat at Hyt, drive a Merkidis... The list is endless.

During my secondary school days, one of my English teachers Betty Wong - utterly fierce and tyrannical but totally effective and efficient - overheard a teen say:

'Wan come to play in my how?'

WHA? How?? Where???

Whereupon, Betty, ever civic minded, gave the runt a complete thrashing in public. Serves him right. I bet he gets tongue cramps everytime he hears the name Betty.

While I'm totally immune now to people going through a 'dye-vors' due to a misplaced 'ling-a-ree' and trying to be very 'sub-tal' about it, new critters manage to pop up when I least expect them to make my skin crawl.

At the wine section in 'Car-four' one fine noon, 2 dandy fellas passed me by and exclaimed: 'That Care-bee-nert very cheap. Wan to buy or not?'

Huh?? Cabinet? Uncle, here got cabinet?

'And must get that Sow-vik-non and Mer-lord ohso.'

The Lord wept.

Ok, I can understand why sooome pathetic language murderers can't be bothered about 'fruenting' their French or Swahili or whatever.

But people who cannot even 'pronoun' simple NIMS properly??

Last year, when Loon still had a pathetic band to call his own but not anymore, I introduced him to a flamboyant and shoot from the hip Miss Wildheart who used to work in an animal entertainment facility (very Silence of the Lambs, eh).

Not to entertain the animals lah.

It was for a public performance in the facility and Loon gave Wildheart's contacts to his cheena-educated stat-board-manager band leader.

Cheena Manager called Wild and said: 'I wan to speak to PAH-MEL-LAH'.

BANG.

That set off one of the most colourful tirades Mr Stat-Board has ever received.

Naturally, Loon called me, his toes laughing, to say his band leader want to complain that she DARED complain about his Engrish...

It takes all kinds.

Still, there is 1 good thing about this hopeless 'bettering (or battering?) our England' campaign.

A constant 'sauce' of human entertainment.