Canadianisms

I tell you, bloody Canadians, they're all the same. Nelly Furtado was on the Chris Moyles Breakfast Show this morning (really popular radio show over here) and she's just like the rest of them. Apparently it's really amusing to try and English accent and over-pronounce the words 'knickers' and 'bitter' (but without the t's in bitter). Grow up Canada!

Nevertheless, listening to Nelly Furtado gave me the chance to bore people once more with the encounter (of sorts) Doctah J had with her. You know, the one when she was singing in a bar in Calgary about a year before she became famous. Then she was sitting by said bar after the set and despite fancying the pants off her, Doctah didn't have the guts to chat her up. In hindsight, I should have emailed the show today and asked for a personalised autograph that said 'To Doctah J, grow some balls!' In fact, I've been kicking myself since that I didn't think of that one in time. Next time though!

Another situation you Canadians would have enjoyed in a sadistic way this week was my friend getting attacked. He's ok by the way but works for Securicor, moving big amounts of money around in an armoured van. You know, to and from banks and atms etc. Anyway, he got jumped this week and 4 guys made off with about £30,000. But he did happen to shit himself when they came at him with iron bars as he thought they were the barrels of guns at first. But no, don't be silly. Not in Britain. And being in Britain, of course he had nothing to defend himself but his protective hat. Hence they got away with the loot. Like I said, he's ok but the whole story did make me think of them Eskimos over there who find it bizarre the British police only have truncheons to protect themselves, echoed in the Simpsons when thats all the Queen's guards had in London. And whistles.

Bloody Canadians.