WHEN the Scots vote to break up the UK, which seems more and more likely when comparing the passion and imagination of the Yes campaign with that of the No, I foresee a problem in the language department.

Yes, I know they speak English after a fashion but they’re just causing problems for those in the tourism industry with their whim to go it on their own. You may think language issues are nothing compared with the challenges faced regarding Scottish defence, health, utility infrastructure and imaginative food, but believe me, in these days of mass travel, tourism is so important to modern economies, and these Scottish activists are going to create dilemmas for our signwriters.

You know how, when you’re abroad in some city square and you decide that, despite your better judgement, you’re going to pay a king’s ransom and climb 786 steps up that medieval tower to get some photos of the place you’ve briefly visited that will remain on your computer never to be looked at again, you look for instructions as to how to hand over the dosh?

Well, those instructions are usually signwritten on boards in different languages.

And just to help you pick the right language, those nice tourist people put a national flag next to the right one.

So fine, if you’re reading this, you probably go for the one with the Union flag. But, if you’re a Scot, which one will you go for next year? Imagine the dilemma of those tourist folk. Will Scots become a foreign language?

Do you think it already is?

This isn’t as daft as it sounds. They are already different versions of English asked for when you start using a new computer. If it’s not US or UK English, you can be offered Australian and I seem to remember a Far East version. So will Microsoft be offering us a Scottish version?

This sensitive subject of language was brought home to me last weekend when I found myself doing some cookery demonstrations in the Czech Republic. I’d been invited to a food festival in the delightful little town of Havlickuv Brod, about 75 miles south-east of Prague, and was keen to educate the locals, about the delights of foods particular to the UK.

Of course, despite English being taught in all schools in the Czech Republic these days, this being a particularly rural area, the vast majority of the audience weren’t able to understand much English, nevermind any colloquialisms I ended up using when describing my local sausage, the Barney Banger, or the delights of black pudding.

So I was lucky enough to have a glamorous assistant in the form of a local translator called Katka. I’m assuming she gave a faithful translation of my presentations but, because most of my jokes seemed to lose a little of their effectiveness while waiting for Katka to do her job, for all I know she was telling them this stupid Englishman hadn’t a clue what he was talking about; and she might not have been far from the truth.

Of course it might just have been the quality of my jokes, but it was essential that Katka could make our audience understand and, despite the lack of uproarious laughter, most seemed to enjoy the show.

What bothers me is that, with tourism being as big as it is, there might have been some Brits from Scotland in the audience.

And of course, with the Union still at it is, I wasn’t just representing England and the North-East; I was representing the whole of the UK. So I just hope I didn’t influence the forthcoming vote because I didn’t mention a Mars Bar once.

Oldfields Eating House,
18 Claypath, Durham, DH1 1RH
Tel: 0191 370 9595

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