As it was, my admiration had to be done in real time, and I almost sprained every muscle in my neck, having to swivel to get a view of all that luscious bronzed flesh, my imagination practically burning out fantasising about what lay beneath those teensy bikini tops. Fortunately, some girls were very kind to a visiting impressionable young English dude and left little to the imagination – not that it mattered. Having arrived at the hotel and engaged in a quick walk around to check out the pool I was packing a boner that could have blinded a midget had I happened to have turned around with any haste.
Indeed, it was a conversation I was having with an American acquaintance recently – don’t judge me, it isn’t habitual behaviour, I was just under the influence of a few beers and when you are inebriated and chatty pretty much anyone will suffice – that prompted me to take this trip down memory lane when I happened to mention the effect of an English accent on American females. However, fresh off the plane I had not yet tapped into what would later become a seemingly bottomless pit of pussy just waiting to be excited by a native English tongue.
Minds out of the gutter, you dirty bastards – I’m talking figuratively.
Perhaps.
You can see where this is going, but my first experience of gracing an American citizen face-to-face with my English accent was not a fruitful one. It involved the ever-present and harassed hotel receptionist, a man who a) seemed to occupy the reception area 24 hours a day and b) was still just about managing to cling desperately enough onto the 80’s that he still felt comfortable in sporting slightly bouffant hair and an amusingly bushy moustache. I can’t remember his name but given the locale it was probably something wholesomely American like Billy-Harold Ratassenberger, III.
Which, before we continue, leads me on to…
Random thought when composing this article number 2:
What is it with the American habit of having a suffix in the form of a number to a name? It seems to be pretty much an American thing as I cannot recall seeing it in either Europe or Australia, for example.
Is it a pride thing, i.e. naming your son after you and him continuing the trend because he can’t think of any other name to call his offspring? That tradition definitely takes place in other countries, but not with the number.
Is it perhaps to make it easy to identify members of the family when, quite feasibly, there might be 2 or 3 or even 4 male family members with the same name? I bet that is bloody confusing when it comes to labelling Christmas presents.
Now, I know prior to England developing the geographical equivalent of short-man syndrome and deciding it was going to colonise half of the globe it went through some pretty lean times, but with the following exception I have not heard of this being done here. Historically, Englanders were so poor there were simply not enough names to go around; if you were born a man, you were pretty much limited to Henry, George or Richard, while females were given the choice of Catherine, Elizabeth and Victoria. Thus, when it came to the monarchy, a suffix made sense. If you take the King Henry’s, for example, we started off with Henry I in 1100, ending up with Henry VIII by 1509. It made sense to differentiate these people via a numerical suffix as it would have made being bored in history lessons somewhat difficult – was it the same Henry who made St. Crispin’s speech as had the six wives? Not sure. Oh no, he was about 120 years later…bugger.
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