The story of my father needing an interpreter to speak with British people has become the stuff of legend, but I’ll repeat it for my flood of new followers. Thread.
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He once was invited to lunch by a British friend named Bob, and my father took me as a young adolescent along to interpret for him. Bob would speak and I’d have to repeat his words in an American accent for my father to understand.
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Bob looked genuinely confused at first and thought it was a joke. He asked if we were playing a prank and refused to believe my father’s answer after I translated the question. As it went on, he became more and more resigned as I imagine every American stereotype was proven true.
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To this day, my father groans when British people ask to speak with him. He genuinely likes British people, but he knows he’s gonna have to find someone to interpret for him.
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End of conversation
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End of conversation
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He's welcome to come to one of my gigs. I promise to speak slowly and not use big words.
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