I was having a badly needed nap yesterday afternoon. I was knackered, and that nap was to be a lifesaver.
The phone rang.
“Hello! I am trilled to inform you that you have won a prize. You have won a Caribbean Cruise! Just press 9 to get the details of your prize and how to collect it.” Or words to that effect.
Two things struck me.
The first was Yer Woman’s accent. It was the worst type of American accent. It was high pitched and nasal, and it made my teeth ache. I swear there is a new crack in the window too.
The second was the way she pronounced ‘Caribbean’. She actually put the emphasis on the third syllable, which sounds so much nicer than the American habit of putting the emphasis on the second. I don’t know why Americans feel they have to fuck up spelling and pronunciation all the time, and this was a pleasant change, apart from the accent.
I pressed 9 without thinking, because I was still a bit dozy.
Then it occurred to me.
I hate the idea of cruises – being stuck on a floating lump of steel with a crowd of strangers, and having nothing to do all day except play tacky games or stare at the horizon. And why would I want to go to the Caribbean [whichever way it is pronounced] when it is full of Americans and hurricanes?
I hung up. I waited until the echoes of that horrible accent stopped screeching around inside my skull and went back to sleep.
Now, of course, I am wondering what I have done.
Some time next year, there is going to be a cruise. There will be an empty seat at the captain’s table, with Grandad written on it. They will be devastated. The captain will be so distracted that he will probably run the ship into something.
If a cruise ship sinks with all hands in the Caribbean next summer, don’t blame me.
Blame the bitch with the accent. She broke the golden rule –
Never phone Grandad when he is having his nap.