One of the words I missed yesterday was kletskop, apparently used in Antwerp to mean “baldie”. I’ve only seen it before in the sense of “chatterbox”, but here I guess that klets is onomatopoeiac, representing the sound made by smacking a bald bonce. A while back a clown was operating outside Zurich on Plaza de…
The rest of the bullocks were taken off to be slaughtered this morning. The knacker sang to them as he walked into the yard. Some bellowed, one wailed, feeling what was coming; the vultures circled, just in case it didn’t.
While we’re on things Flemish, I’m afraid I have a tendency to disbelieve shibboleth stories. The big one in these parts is that of the brave Flemish-speakers identifying the craven French-speakers after a battle in 1302 by politely asking them to say “scilt ende vrient”. That’s debunked by Bill Poser here. An alternative version has…
Even if you stay clear of the Russian gun smugglers in the port, it’s still often very difficult to follow Antwerp dialect, with its Anglicisms (makkadam, “asphalt”), Gallicisms (memmaure, “memory”), games (‘t Chingchangsplein for Sint Jansplein, “St John’s Square”) and surreal inventions (I get halfway through melkkaarenoungdenaar, “lousy haircut”, and then lose track of what…
I thoroughly approve of British attempts to imitate Spain and introduce round the clock drinking. Maybe it will encourage the drongos who were singing outside my window at 5 this morning will stay at home next year.
For reasons still unclear, MM has been investigating Chinese punishment and bondage gear. Ah, if I had but the spondoolicks… (The first person I heard using “spondoolicks” was a well-off British public (that is to say, private) schoolboy whose Cockneyisms have brought him fortune and a certain degree of fame. Ach well!)