Give me the Schottenpreis

I never thought that I would be saying this, but Germans are really funny.

In Germany, everything from mobile phones and internet services to cars, videos and even condoms are marketed as Schottenpreis to emphasise their rock-bottom cheapness.

Even international companies have got in on the act, with Greek-based Superfast Ferries, the operators of the Rosyth-Zeebrugge service, offering Germans trips to Scotland at Schottenpreis.

The VisitScotland web page of special offers boasts: “Nach Schottland zum Schottenpreis” (Travel to Scotland for a Scotsman’s price).

The SNP Members of the Scottish Executive are getting angry “These adverts are crass, they are outdated and they are offensive to Scots and are an outdated and misleading cliché..”

What do we expect after all those years of ridiculing Germans as humourless square heads.

The image of the thrifty Scot began in the 15th century, when large numbers of Scots left for the cities of the Baltic, which at that time were mainly inhabited by Germans.

Large numbers became pedlars, selling very cheap household products, such as pots and pans. And the expression Schottenwaren (Scottish wares) emerged to describe the ultra-cheap items which they sold.

But the jokes are good.

The Germans have a great sense of humour; the problem is they reserve it for the Scots, as these examples show.

Scots traditionally marry on February 29, goes the joke, so that they only need to celebrate their anniversary once every four years.

How can you tell that the trawler coming to the harbour is from Scotland? There are no seagulls in its wake.

“I’ve received some photos from my Scottish pen pal?” “What do they look like?” “Don’t know. Have to get them developed first.”

Two Scots fall down a crevasse while in the mountains. The mountain watch is alerted, and the rescue team appears. “Hello, we’re from the Red Cross,” one rescuer says. The reply comes from below, “You’re getting no donations from us.”

Very funny. Now where were those Kraut jokes again?

Cross Posted at Adelaide Green Porridge Cafe

From Scotland on Sunday

Teledildonics

Working in both IT and Telecommunications, the sight of an article entitled Call goes out for open source Teledildonics work caught my eye.

My first rather flippant thought was that this must be harnessing technology for the rather lonely hobby of onanism.

Surprisingly, I was right.

Hat tip: The Register, home of my weekly chuckle, The Bastard Operator from Hell

Do you kiss your children with that potty-mouth?

Karen pointed out to me today that I had swore in front of two people I hardly knew at the Mayor’s Ball last night.

The person was Widow Twanky who Karen recognised from the Morley Operatic performance of Aladdin last month.

I have to admit that I hadn’t recognised her- my reasoning for this was that as she had grown a beard and decided to give up the Dame look to become the butch one in a lesbian relationship she was no longer quite so obvious.

Anyway, Karen suggested I go and check if I didn’t believe her so I did and we were still chatting away merrily fourty minutes later when everyone else had gone home apart from the Caterers.

Anyway, our conversations were wide ranging on the theme of entertainment and I did try very hard to get them to buy the Morley Pavilion to turn it back into a live theatre, but unfortunately their society isn’t quite that flush. (Indeed they seem to be behind in their account submissions, oh dear…)

Anyway, as well as me trying to sell them the idea of a community theatre, they were trying to sell me the idea of getting involved. I touched on my previous experiences, including my joining a very well known Am-Dram that was so disorganised that I’d moved away by the time they got round to contacting me. It was at that point that I used the term Fuckwitts.

in my defence, I used it as an adjective rather than a noun as part of an amusing story, and I also had the mitigating factor of having had a small tincture earlier in the evening (or as Karen put it- three shits to the wind).

Now I always know when i’ve had enough to drink- because I fall over, throw up and hit a policeman. (BUM BUM Tish!- copyright Alexei Sayle).

More seriously, I am conscious that I will occasinally profane in this blog. My view of this is that swearing isn’t big or clever- unless done with impeccable comic timing. The Web is for consenting adults, however certain words can get blocked by content technology used by businesses and I don’t want my reader to not be able to drop in over his lunchtime sandwiches from work because his office websweeper doesn’t approve of my content.

To get round this, I will be tempering my language and introducing a dictionary section into the sidebar, similar in concept to the Viz Profanisaurus (but obviously nothing like it at all, for legal reasons).

I’d quite like a witty name for the swearing list that will enable me to retire after I flog off the copyright to Harry Hill and welcome suggestions from the commentariat below.

Go on, you know you want to.

SCUNTHORPE.

Damn, it just slipped out. that’ll be me blocked in the U.S. Bible Belt now…