The Daily Mail and Tesco and various translation pundits just booked themselves into the nether stretches of the intestines of linguistic hell. From the Mule: I’m not hungry, thanks! Tesco brands Finest spaghetti bolognese ‘the balls of grandad’ Packaging features signs from an Italian market advertising ‘Le Palle de Nonno’ and ‘Coglioni di Mulo’ They…
Why’s the Spanish translation not called “Celsius 233”? Because its perceived market consists not of book-devouring hermits who care about the relationship between title and text, but of exhibitionists in search of accessories symbolising of culture and modernity? Why worry about book-burning when no one reads the damn things anyway?
Lenox’s take on the tourism department in Mojácar, where, including unregistered residents, there are probably at least as many British- as Spanish-born, but where it doesn’t occur to the (ruling) Spanish-speakers to ask the (generally leisured) English-speakers for paid or unpaid help with tourist promotion. Some of the German press this morning are probably reaffirming…
Check out fellow-moaner, Malaprensa. Nigerian president, Goodluck Jonathan, will need it, and if John Baker is permissible, then why not the other way round more generally – Ayudaporelamordedios Rajoy, for example?
In comments, from the excellent Pueblo Girl, a not uncommon Spanglish eggcorn, and one previously much enjoyed in English too. For example: Stake versus Steak.On one occasion, Garrick dined in the beef-steak room at Covent Garden, ready dressed in character for the part of Ranger, which he was to perform the same night at the…
Lenox points me to an article called “Hotels In Benalmadena, Mojacar And Vera – Spend The Amazing Night Life!“, which returns ca. 1800 ghits for me this morning. That level of distribution kind of surprises me, because fucked Spanish translation tends to be the work of artisans apparently innocent of the benefits the age of…