Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Amusing Stories from My Recent Canadian Visit, Part 1

The day after I flew into Toronto, a friend of mine had his thirtieth birthday party. The timing, was she not excellent? It was at a bar/restaurant type place in Toronto called Alleycatz. Note the super cool "z". This is no ordinary bar, my friend.

Actually, it was really nice. There were about 20 of us for dinner, and the bar bit had a band playing and they were really good. The food was excellent, the drinks were plentiful, Sean got some great gifts, there was cake and party favours. An excellent night, wouldn't you say? But what could make this night better? What could add some hilarity to this night?

That's right. The fakest English accent ever. Ever!

When we got to the bar, we were seated by the hostess lady (after the mandatory coat check - clever bastards!) and then the waitress came over to the table. Now she looked completely normal. And then she opened her mouth.

Waitress: Fancy a drink, luv?

Now, I am prone to exaggeration. I'll freely admit that. But you need to believe me when I say that this was the fakest English accent ever. It was just so bad. It was a mix of every stereotypical accent you can imagine. So, so bad.

Now I assumed that as I live in England, I would be more aware the badness of this atrocity than the others I was with.

But sometimes, I underestimate my friends sometimes. As soon as she left, I couldn't hold in my disbelief. And that was quickly backed up by the others at the table. Seriously, such a bad accent.

Anyway, they all were pressing me to bust her on her fakity fakeness. And I would have loved to have done it, really. But at heart I am a nice and somewhat shy person (shut up, I totally am), and want to make her cry in front of a huge table of people. A goodhearted friend tried to step up and help me out.

Goodhearted Friend: That's a great accent. Where are you from?

Waitress: Oh, thanks. I'm from Manchester.

Me (in my head): Manchester? Like fuck you are.

Now, I'm sorry for the profanity, but really. Manchester has a quite distinctive accent. It's easy to figure out when someone is from Manchester, just by their accent. And sure, if people live in London or the south, they can lose their regional accents, blah blah blah. If she was from Manchester, I'm from ..... well, somewhere that I am clearly not from. Paraguay, let's say. If she was from Manchester, I'm from Paraguay.

And, because I would like to be a meaner person than I am, I devised a clever test to check her supposed Manchester origins.

Me (planned clever test): Oh, you're from Manchester are you? I live in England myself. I forget, what are people from Manchester called again?

Waitress (anticipated response): Um, Manchesterites? Manchestersons? Manchesterians? Fine. Fine! I don't know. I'm really from Mississauga. Stop harassing me! [runs away in shame]

Me (anticipated glee): Glee!

Because there is no way she would have known the answer to that question, unless she'd actually lived in Manchester, or at least somewhere in the UK.

For those of you that are curious the answer is Mancunians (pronounced Man-cue-nee-uns) or Manks for short.

And seriously, fakest accent ever.

(And just for the record. I did not actually confront her. That was all imagined. Did I not mention I'm a wuss?)


kobrinsky said...

that was awesome! you totally uncovered here dark lie, her secret! From now on I am going to call you The Unearther. Your powers are for good and for awesome.

Janice said...

Hi Alice,

That would have be totally awsome IF you had the nerve to do it!


Gwen said...

I'm glad you didn't do that, because she might have said the right answer, then added, "This is about my accent, isn't it? Well, it's not a bad accent. It's my SPEECH IMPEDIMENT. Are you happy now? Are you? ARE YOU?!?!?"