English, as it ought to be

A lot of my English friends don't understand why moving to Italy has me scared half out of my pants. "I'd be terrified if it was me," they say, "but you moved half way around the world already. Italy is only two hours away".

True enough. But when I left Melbourne, the trip was more than 12 months in the planning (not two!), and coming to a place where I already had about a dozen friends, and even family (Sam, I mean you!) here already; and the language, system of government and even the side of the road you drive on were all the same.

At this point they usually remind me I was wrong about the language. English is not the same as Australian (although, it has to be said, most English people speak worse English than I do). I very quickly gave up trying to explain concepts like spaz, wog, or daggy (although 'the dress sense of 90% of english people' would do nicely on the last one).

It took me months, when I first arrived, to get used to my boss saying 'Morning Georgi, you alright?'. 'Yeah fine, why - do I look sick? Has my hair been messedup in the wind?'.

I wish someone had told me that over here, calling somone "fit" means you fancy them like mad, not that they're in better shape than you expected. (Yes, I was describing someone senior at work).

After three years here, I never say 'pants' anymore when I mean trousers, and I understand that, for people of my parents' generation, 'pants' and 'knickers' are both mild swear words... oh, and a 'twat' is not just a funny pronunciation of the word 'twit' (yep, used that one at work too.
oops). Long weekends happen because we have 'bank holidays', I sleep under a duvet not a doona, bogans have become 'chavs' and scrags turned into 'mingers'. It's years since I tried to call a hot bloke a 'spunk' - in this country, that's what he makes, not what he is!

Although I made myself stop in my tracks the morning I passed one of the 'born and bred in Witney' lasses at work and out of my very own mouth came the local customary greeting of 'hiyaaaaaaaah, y'a'riiiight?' Never again.

I will say this for the English language, as spoken in its native land. Nowhere else can you use words like bespoke; poorly; ill; quaint, horrid, mocked or archaic; without sounding like a complete wanker. Frightfully English? Indeed. But if not here, then where? And I have to say, the words for truly great stuff - spendid, marvellous, wondrous - these totally eclipse their coarse Aussie equivalents like 'grouse', 'bonza' and even 'bloody brilliant'.

I was trying to explain all this to my colleague Claire, on the walk down from the bus one morning."Oh!" she exlaimed, laughing her arse off. "That's just super!"

'Nuff said.