Vichy France

The “I walked into a shop and they started talking Welsh tour”

Living in Wales today must be the closest thing to living in Vichy France during the War. Nazi occupied France. You don’t know who to speak to, what about, and in what language. You’ve got to look out for people with little pin badges, orange apostrophe marks with ‘Cymraeg’ on them.

Most people don’t speak Welsh but because they are the majority, it appears that that gives them the right to hold a bigoted opinion about the minority language.

“Wish I could speak it"
 ( Well get your fat obese lard ass out of McDonalds and sign up for classes then!)

The attitude of the minority has become so defensive that in whole streets of Rhydaman they don’t speak it at all, even though they can. There’s no half measures. We are a Nation of dualities!

In my manifesto (The Shark Fishing in Wales Party) I suggest that we proceed down the path of “Wenglish” where Welsh and English words intermingle. The theory is that the more Welsh words that can be used in everyday conversation by the monoglots, then the faster the spread of the indiginous language.

There is a danger and one which the Welsh Language ‘Heddlu Iaith’ might put an argument against, in that this will undermine the purity and correctness of the ancient tongue.

Well Fuck the purity and correctness, this is the “unfed awr ar ddeg”, chwedl Saunders Lewis and we must do all in our ‘gafael’ to spread the love.

A language can only survive on goodwill, and it appears that there is very little goodwill towards the language. It polarises opinion. The fact that it is considered a rather difficult language to learn doesn’t help, but anything worth having or attaining is worth the struggle.

 “Mae Cymraeg fi ddim digon da” Well fuck that, just speak what you can, when you can.

Aberystwyth, the Athens of Mid Wales. You are on the Fault Line here! It’s bleeding miracle that it is spoken when you consider that it is only 40 miles to the border. The closer to the Ffin (The Border) the less Welsh will be spoken, the further away, the more Welsh is spoken but our entrenched attitudes as a people towards it will not help. This duality, this Bipolarity of language has blown a fuse in my brain!

I am forcing myself to see both sides of the equation because It is such an important equation.

 I speak with people who are openly opposed to the language, their argument being, well it isn’t an argument’ just resentment towards the assembly, jobs for the boys and girls who speak Welsh in Media Land and the cliques of Welsh Speakers who freeze you out of the conversation in Chapter and the Pontcanna Triangle. It appears that not speaking ‘Cymraeg’ makes people feel inferior, not quite the Full Welsh Equation and rather than respect it and further it, they resent it and hope it goes away.

This ‘they all speak English anyway attitude’ won’t get us anywhere. That shows an arrogance and lack of respect. If we cannot become a nation of ‘Bridge Builders’ of ‘Pontwyr’ we are all just going to grumble along in mistrust with the Fault Line running through BBC Radio Cymru and BBC Radio Wales like a sticky schtick of linguistic rock.

Working on my New Routine!

 

The “I walked into a Shop and they started Talking Welsh Tour”

(c)

David Williams

Comedy Material

Sut Mae? That’s Welsh for F Off by the Way!

I am a man fighting obsolescence, my perceived irrelevance.

Cymru/Wales is my Alamo and I ain’t  going quietly!

I am 46 and I’m not afraid to die.

More behind me than in front of me!

Anti-Social Misanthrope becomes Comedian as part of elaborate Mid-Life Crisis.

I can see the Headline in the ‘Dinesydd’ now!

The moral of this introduction is ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’

Stuart Lee (I’m name dropping here now) a world famous comedian said in his book “If you prefer a milder comedian, please ask for one” on page 13 He said “ I tend to like all Welsh people enormously”

And here am I with my Welsh credentials having been born in No 13, Walters Rd, Pen y Bont are Ogwr on March 1st hence the name David, named after the Saint but I ain't no Saint.
 “ I tend to dislike all Welsh people enormously” especially Cardiffians but then again they wouldn’t identify as Welsh anyway, especially librarians, but then again they wouldn’t be able to open the revolving doors!

So I walked into a shop and they started talking Welsh. Well with any urban myth, worth its salt, there is always a grain of truth and I recently set out to test this urban or rather rural myth.

I tested it out in the Londis in Llanbedrog! Penlleyn! Aye! I took my tent and went on a Shamanic Vision Quest to North Wales, well alright then, a 3 day walking and camping holiday nye. I went up and down Cadair Idris and then in the Londis in Llanbedrog, two middle aged men were gabbling away like two old turkeys with their gonads tied up in elastic bands. I purchased a small bottle of milk, the red top, no fucking fat, no fucking about, variety. I took my position behind turkey 2 who turned round to me and in a Shakespearian aside to turkey no 1 said “ Beth mae hwn yn sefyllian yn fan hyn?” as he was tapping his credit card number in for his purchase of a packet of pink bon bons I presume for him and a tin of dog food obviously for his Mrs! Well translated! This is “What is this one doing hanging around here”? I’m queuing, you prick, behind you and I always use cash because I’m thoughtful to others who have to follow me to be treated in the ever so shite ‘service industry’.

I put the milk down and said ‘Diolch yn fawr’ in my Hwntw brogue even though I have lived in the Gogledd! Turkey No 1 made a sharp exit and I followed him. He got into a Renault Shito with a Man Utd Sun Strip on the Back Window. Well I think that says it all! They don’t do themselves any favours by playing Russian Roulette! Use your Indiginous language of course but don’t make comments about other customers in case they can speak your indiginous language as well.

The following morning I went into a shop, a newsagents in Aberdaron purely to get change for the National Trust Car Park so I purchased a Cymro and a Golwg and I stood there where a lady came in and the genial Turkey no 3 said to her without looking at me “ Wnai jest wneud papurau hwn” which is “I’ll just do this one’s papers” It was his surliness and his use of the word 'hwn'! I think the word ‘hwn’ is rude! I think 'hwn' is dismissive and every time I hear it I feel like Steve Martin in 'Dead men don't wear plaid' when he hears the word 'Cleaning Woman' 

 

I gave him a tenner and quick as a flash, as he gave me my change I said “ Ugain wnes I rhoi I chi ynde?” I gave you a twenty and he said “Wi’n nabod chi’ch Cardi’s, wnes I arfer byw yn Aberystwyth” One sentence and he’s got me pinpointed to a Geographical area! I just took the change and waddled out, wishing for Christmas!  Cardi, I live in bastard Grungetown.

Talking of which:

I was in the Westgate Pub talking Welsh with me mate, as you do! You know, when in Wales and all that……..  and one Kairdiff Ark who is at the bar facing his friend  on the go faster bar stools sponsored by “Shit for Brains”  says to his mate “Nice to hear a dead language innit Stan”! Well after jumping at his throat and digging my incisors into his twitching jugular vein and tearing the flesh from his face with the Stanley knife in my pocket I left him sitting there facing his mate, like one of those stuffed mannequins wot that German Doctor prepares Autopsies on! His eye balls were bulging. I killed him and stuffed him in one swift manoeuvre and placed a Tree shaped Air Freshener above the bar! What perhaps was a little more worrying than my extreme reaction to this insult was the fact that his mate didn’t bat an eyelid. He just looked at his mate and nodded. I don’t think he noticed that his mate was dead.  Kairdiff, Capital City of Wales, my big fat fucking arse!     

Nos Da!

 

 



Stand Up Comedy Routine!

Today, I was at the Glee Club in Cardiff Bay! I was part of a BBC Stand Up Comedy Workshop.
It was very enjoyable and the upshot was that we had to prepare some material and deliver it to an audience.

 

 



Sut Mae? That's Welsh for F Off!
I'm Welsh and I hate the fact. I hate being Welsh.
Why couldn't I be Brazilian, Italian, Dutch or Guatamalan?
No I had to be born under the Prince of Wales Feathers.
The Red Straightjacket!
"We'll keep a Welcome in the Hillside"
Yeah and do you know why? Because we won't let you into our homes.
When I lived in North Wales, they thought I was a Scouser and when I went to Liverpool they thought I was a woollyback!
One nil to the sheepshaggers! One nil!
Wales? Do you mean the Fish or those singing bastards said the New York Cab driver!
The thing I hate most about being Welsh is that there are two languages vying side by side for attention and funding and status and there should only be one language in Wales.
Welsh.
I walked into a shop and they started talking Welsh! Yeah? Well fuck me they must have been talking about you, you paranoid bastard.   
I'm half and half a Welshman and it's so tiring.
Cardiff, the Capital City of Wales, Don't get me started, you wouldn't even know you were in Wales.
You can relax when you go to Bristol or Bath but when you get back, there's an edginess. There is an uneasiness in the Principality! When they told us we were going to be in the Glee Club I thought they meant the National Assembly of Wales.
£60,000 a year for sitting on your 'Ich Dien'
The Best Thing to come out of Wales?
The M4
I've been David Williams and what you think of me is none of my business.
Nos Da!

 All right, it's not funny and I actually forgot the script and went off on one but it was my first time and they said 'Not Bad for an Old un'   

Waiting for the Fish to Bite!

The Wales Blog Awards 2012 shortlist

Un bloody believable but I didn't make the shortlist!

The Wales Blog Awards 2012 shortlist

Gone Fishing!



Cheeky!

I've been a bit cheeky! I've put the Logo for the Wales Blog Awards on my Blog without their permission. The deadline has passed and I have no idea whether I will be standing up on that podium with an inflateable shark in one hand and a bronze statuette in the other on September 20th folks. You will be hearing about it on Twitter and on Facebook and even possibly on Tumblr. I hope you're following me on there also.
I hope that you've realised that by now I am not trying to sell you anything apart from a philosophy of honesty and cheekiness. I know I'm pushing the boundaries for a Middle Aged Man. There I've said it. "I am Middle Aged". I am age obsessed because I am coming to terms with my lost youth, a youth that was stolen by Bipolar Disorder. I am now preparing my mind for DEATH because it could be around the next corner and I want to be ready for the Fucker. For all my best intentions, spirituality interests, meditation friendly, New Age leaning I am a pretty Neanderthal, unreconstructed male. Overthinking and essentially useless but I would be rather chuffed if my words and phraseology were acknowledged in some respect. Don't you think the obituary pages in the Western Mail are horrendous? Hatch, Match and Despatch!
Your surname, your age and where you passed away. Where you Died!   Death like Mental Illness are perhaps not the font of most blog posts but both are organic. One where the body shuts down and the other where the brain has decided not to function to the norms of polite society. Let's talk taboo! What is going on in people's minds as they move towards Death. The Race to the Grave. Bring it on.com! Is it weariness? Should we not all be preparing for not being here and for nothingness. Is it not irresponsible not to!
"Oooh you morbid bastard!" Well it's a Sunday. The Day of Death: 'Dia De los Muertos'. I really think that we would be a lot better off if we as a society faced death head on together. Have a Day of the Dead like the Mexicans! Go into the Graveyards and celebrate our ancestors. Lie and Sleep on the Gravestones. Let's get used to the smell of cremation. Then perhaps,just perhaps we won't be so afraid of LIFE.

Diwrnod y Meirw
Welsh Stylee Aiee!