Tinglish for room service
Good moaning sir. Loom serbit. How may I hep chew?
Could you send up breakfast for my wife and me?
Yes sir. Wat chew lie? You lie bake fart Amelica or bake fart contintentun? Also hab a la carte maynoo.
I’d like the American breakfast with bacon, fried tomato – and strawberry jam for the toast. I’d also like some of the waffles I see on the à la carte menu.
Bake fart Amelica, baygon, fie tomato, tote wit sataw burly yam, and waffern. How you lie you eck?
I’ll have the eggs fried, please, sunny side up, and please don’t cook them too much; I like the yolk to be runny.
I no unnerstan. Yoke not funny?
No, not the joke. The yoke. The yellow bit of the egg. I like it runny.
Okay. Unnerstan. Fie eck sunny sigh up, lunny yellow bit. Wat foot joot you lie?
What’s the choice?
Hab olen, gape foot, larm or lie chee.
I’ll have the grapefruit juice, please.
Coffee. With cream, please – not creamer, not milk. Real cream.
Okay. Copy keem. An my wipe you?
My wife would like the continental breakfast, but do you have chocolate croissants instead of the plain ones?
Not shooer. Momen pease… Okay. Hab.
Good. She’d also like a small plate of pomelo. Can you do that? And she’ll have the lychee juice and coffee with fresh milk. You got that?
Samorn pate pomaylo. Joot lie chee, copy fet miw. Anyting el?
Well, there is one thing. Erm, I’m not quite sure how to explain this… Do you think you could get hold of a prosthetic leg?
No, not pathetic. Prosthetic. It means a fake leg – plastic, metal or wood.
You wan for bake fart? How you lie it? Fie? Loat? Sateem? Wit salad?
No, no. I don’t want to eat it. I’m sorry. I know this is rather an unusual request. But you see, I lost my leg 12 years ago in an accident with a lawn mower. Since then I’ve had a wooden leg.
So you hab wood leg? Now you wan passatik or maytun too? So now you wan TWO patetic leg? Wat happen to you udder rian leg?
Nothing happened to my other real leg. It’s my wooden leg that’s the problem.
Accuse me, I no unnerstan.
Well, my wife and I have been here three days in this lovely bungalow. It’s our second honeymoon, if you know what I mean…
You marry TWO time? An you wan TWO patetic leg?
No! Please, listen. In three days we really haven’t moved from the bed, so my wooden leg was propped in the closet. This morning we thought we might go for a stroll after breakfast, but when I checked in the closet, I found that termites had got at my leg. They’ve eaten great chunks of it. I’m worried it may not take my weight any more. So I need a replacement.
Replate men term eye…?
No. Replacement leg.
Solly. No leg on bake fart maynoo. Hab onee normun bake fart.
I know! I don’t want to eat the leg. I want to wear it.
Where it? You say it in coset wit term eye. But how I know?
You think I’m going to lie to you about something like this? I mean, this is already embarrassing enough. What, you think I’m making it up? Please understand: I cannot leave my bungalow unless you can find me another leg. Do you want me hopping around the pool frightening all the other guests with my stump?
You no need hopping loun poon. Satay in loom better. Onee shot time. Jut to lun time.
You can find me a leg by lunchtime? That’s great. Fantastic.
No pompem. Lunt maynoo not lie bake fart maynoo. Hab many ting. Hab leg op lam. Hab leg op pork. Hab pig foot, too. Chicken leg, beep shank, many leg. No wully. You okay. Bake fart come soon. Bye bye now.
What? Hey! Wait! I DON’T want to eat it! I want to wear it. Damn! He hung up. Can you believe that???
© Copyright Alasdair Forbes 2008-2009