From Hunglish to C2 British English

When I first saw Very British Problems by Rob Temple, I was instantly blown away. This is a show where comedians and celebrities talk about what makes Brits so uncannily odd, so weirdly and hilariously self-contained and polite even if their ship is sinking in the middle of the Atlantic with no rescue around. And they even try to explain why they like queues, a cup of tea that can be the remedy to almost anything in the world, or how their manners change in a fraction of a second when they find themselves behind the steering wheel. Not only that, but also their politely wrapped ambiguous opinions about almost anything – the mastery behind their way to reservedly invite you over for a cuppa sometime in the future, without telling the exact date or expecting you to show up, or inquiring about your wellbeing not giving a monkey’s about how you feel, or, and most people in the world don’t get it, how important it is for them to make small talk, most probably about the famously rainy Englis...

Last winter was cold. And if I hadn’t been on this planet for more than five decades, I might have said something like “How unusual!”. However, I can vividly recall those winters here, in Hungary, when we had to jump into our warmest clothes and thickest boots to avoid frostbite. Okay, okay, it wasn’t anything like the winters in Finland, Norway, or anywhere near the Arctic. Sure, but they never used to have summers like we had, so when they complain about the scorching heat, we were still wearing our winter jackets. But I digress – the unusually long and cold winter. It started in November with temperatures around zero degrees Celsius, then the mercury dropped to minus 15 or 20, whereas just a couple of years ago those same thermometers were showing the same values but in positive figures. Funny, innit, that when I was a kid, we imagined Santa sliding through the Puszta – the Great Hungarian Plain – with his sledge, and no wonder that a few years back Rudolf was begging for wheels. As...

I only say this: “Alright, what’s occurring?”. And if it doesn’t make you smile, it probably means you haven’t got the foggiest what I’m on about. In this case you might want to check the following link first and come back for the post afterwards: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gavin_%26_Stacey However, if you know what I mean, Gavin and Stacey will need no introduction. And you can almost certainly hear Nessa greeting others in her delightfully rough Welsh accent seasoned with barely concealed condescension. By the way, this show made me start learning Welsh. I bought a book and started to learn it, but sadly, life had other ideas and nipped my enthusiasm in the bud. All I can remember now is: Dw i'n hoffi coffi. This is pretty much the sum total of my Welsh — which, coincidentally, is not unlike Uncle Bryn's entire vocabulary. The very first scene of this absolutely charming series ensures that you are immediately glued to the screen. The opening banter between Gavalar and St...

We don’t bother with talent shows these days – not closely, not loosely, not at all. Though back in the day, we did tune into DSDS, that German gig fronted by Dieter Bohlen. Yeah, that Dieter Bohlen, with his dodgy little hairdo and a voice like a strangled cat (or a eunuch on helium, take your pick). It was all about scouting for the next big singing talents, and, honestly, it was a right laugh at first. However, after a few seasons it got flat like my tyre on Hungary's famously bumpy roads. The whole shebang revolved around Dieter, his sharp, witty, and cruel remarks, and, most importantly, him being THE boss that decides everything. It became painfully dull. No wonder this type of entertainment has become irresistibly popular around the world, and TV channels and YouTube are brimming with talent shows. So, every now and then, when I need to forget the world and the only possible way for me is watching short clips on YouTube, I encounter gems that never cease to amaze me. On v...