Shocked and appalled by some of the stories I've read at Literotica

I think the biggest insult you can ever give a Canadian is to even remotely suggest they're an American. Yanks is Yanks, Canucks live further north, eh?

Fifty years ago we were on holiday, somewhere in the Med, and the first day met another young couple and arranged to meet for a meal that evening. Attempting to make conversation I asked them what part of America they were from. This was before our first visit to America and I wasn’t as familiar with the accents then - tv and films all sounded the same - although I do remember a Canadian tv series Cannonball with Paul Birch and William Campbell.

I was told, politely and friendly, but in a way that told me I wasn’t the first one to make the same mistake, “we aren’t American, we are Canadians.”

I’ve never made that mistake again and ever since, whenever I now meet anyone with a North American accent, I always ask “where are you from.” I’ve had many a laugh with Canadians I’ve met when, after asking the question, I tell them how, and why, I now never confuse Canadians with Americans.

I met a family in Europe and asked where they were from and they said “Denmark.” I said I thought they were Danish but didn’t want to say so if they were Swedish, Norwegian it Finnish in case I offended them. Their response was “as long as you don’t think we’re German.”
 
I was told, politely and friendly, but in a way that told me I wasn’t the first one to make the same mistake, “we aren’t American, we are Canadians.”

I remember one lady who didn't want to be mistaken for Canadian, because she was Quebecois...
 
Especially Drop -Bears; it's all that Poutine, it adds extra piquance...

You'd have to be careful if you visit oz. Living in France would have chipped the edges off your southern accent, and you could be mistaken for a Montréaler.

Now, Will would never allow anything EVER to alter his Pommy accent. Particularly the French. :rolleyes:
 
Fifty years ago we were on holiday, somewhere in the Med, and the first day met another young couple and arranged to meet for a meal that evening. Attempting to make conversation I asked them what part of America they were from. This was before our first visit to America and I wasn’t as familiar with the accents then - tv and films all sounded the same - although I do remember a Canadian tv series Cannonball with Paul Birch and William Campbell.

I was in Hawaii in the 80s at the height of Crocodile Dundee and was asked where we were from. Said Melbourne and were asked if that was in New Zealand!
 
You'd have to be careful if you visit oz. Living in France would have chipped the edges off your southern accent, and you could be mistaken for a Montréaler.

Now, Will would never allow anything EVER to alter his Pommy accent. Particularly the French. :rolleyes:

Except when we're in Paris and Parisian waiters are rude because of my accent/word-choice/origins/anything, then he'll start ordering in German, and look surprised when they can't understand him; he'll say something like "really? And after all that collaborating, too...?"
 
Except when we're in Paris and Parisian waiters are rude because of my accent/word-choice/origins/anything, then he'll start ordering in German, and look surprised when they can't understand him; he'll say something like "really? And after all that collaborating, too...?"

Parisian waiters are rude to everyone. My wife speaks with a cut-glass educated Parisian accent yet that doesn't stop them. She learned from a retired professor of French Literature from the Sorbonne. However, she can and does complain loudly in tones that can be heard a mile away.

If I order, they fall about laughing. My French is late 18th Century with a mix of Yorkshire and Australian accents. I use antiquated words and tenses with a broad Aussie accent. When I speak in Paris I usually draw a crowd of disbelieving onlookers. The exception was in the Palace of Versailles. We had an annual season ticket, very unusual for Brits, which enabled us to walk past the queues at all parts. I was reading, aloud to my wife, extracts from an old book in a display case and one of the docents (room wardens) noticed. She was amazed, not at my accent, but that I could read the old French fluently from a manuscript book of the fourteenth century.
 
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