I was in costa brava a few years back, pre job before you ask. It was about 7.30 ish in the evening and I was sat on a raised outer bar area at a tiny crossroads(you could literally get one car through) anyway their was a family sat next to me and my mate as I sat with my back to the road I had the sensation of a missile brushing my ear followed by the pop and smash of a pint glass that landed next to the family's push chair! So I spun round to see two local men stood in the centre of the crossroads and a few mutters suggested it was one of them that was wearing full combat pants and jacket. So I approach him calmly and ask what the hell he was playing at, he was dismissive to say the least! I again attempted to point out the error of his ways and this time pointed out the possible outcomes of his actions again, let me add in quite good English was at best dismissive! On my third and final attempt to show him the error of his ways and explain the least he should do is apologise, his reaction was to look me square in the face tell ne he didn't understand English and shove the palm of his hand in my face! This was the action the flipped the switch! It was quickly followed by my (on reflection quite witty reply) well you'll understand this you CNUT ............ I think you can fill the gaps in! My best mate still to this day 12 years later randomly come out with "you'll understand this you Cnut" and burst into hysterics lol!
Loving that. I remember on a ferry in Crete once. You know the ones, room for 70 and 140 let on. Jeanette and I were sat side by side, pressed hard together against the rail when a chap of.....aryan descent pushed through the crowd (as they tend) and stood facing us looking wistfully out at the Cretan shoreline (undoubtedly reminiscing the good old days when "all zis vos ours"). It was a bit unsettling as his knob was about face height anyway but after a while, he reached out and put a hand on the rail between us,, which was even more unsettling as his arm was actually in contact with us both. A few minutes passed, then his first hand was followed by the other one, so Jeanette and I are now being pushed apart. As we looked at each other in disbelief, he slides is arms forward so his elbows are on the rail and we are now leaning on the people on either side of us. I smiled up at him at this point, with a smile that Jeanette doesn't like me using. It's very wide but doesn't show any teeth. A bit like a cat would smile if it could, and asked him if, indeed, he understood English. "Yes, yes, English, good yes." "Excellent!" I exclaimed, "Thenf uck off before I throw you into the Aegean..................Again". (That's why she doesn't like me using that smile, it usually means I'm making up something like that to say) Anyway. It did the trick. He went scuttling off, no doubt to find out what the complaint procedure was and I didn't see him again until everyone was queuing up to debark along the single piece of scaffolding plank that served as a gangway, when, sure enough, who should come barging his way through the throng as if he's the one with the keys, my old mate. I noticed that, right opposite me was a pole running up the side of the ship and surreptitiously reached out to hold it in an effort to steady myself against the roll of the boat and managed to clothes line him perfectly across the throat in one of those cartoon, both feet out in front, comedy moments. Bettered only by the passengers behind all stepping over him on their way off. The moment was made even better by one of the crew, who took my hand to balance me down the plank and stage whispered "bravo" as I teetered past him.
Spooky coincidence. My mate just sent me this. Angela Merkel arrives at passport control in Athens: "Name?" asks the immigration officer. "Angela Merkel " she replies "Nationality?" asks the immigration officer. "German." she replies "Occupation?" "Nein, just here for a few days......”
