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Overheard on a Bus | Feb 01, 2008 09:04

I adore a good misunderstanding. Happily, a feature of New Zealand dialect known as the NEAR-SQUARE diphthong merger provides endless scope for confusion and entertainment.

This diphthong merger affects only some New Zealanders, and means that they pronounce the words 'near' and 'square' (and other words in these lexical sets) as if they rhymed. Older New Zealanders will be astounded to hear that anyone -- however young and shiftless -- could rhyme two such dissimilar words. But if you don't believe that it can be done, then listen to this speaker pronouncing the words 'fear', 'fair', and 'fare'.

On the other hand, younger New Zealanders will be utterly gobsmacked if you suggest that the words 'near' and 'square' don't rhyme. An assertion which, in turn, may make people of a certain disposition demand the reinstatement of compulsory military training and/or the death penalty.

For myself, I do differentiate between 'near' and 'square' -- although I can usually guess what shabbily-dressed young people are trying to say. I've even become acclimatized to television advertisements for a company called "Ear New Zealand" (apparently they also have a fleet of planes).

But occasionally, I get caught out. I recently met a woman in her late thirties, who introduced herself as "Clear". In a nervous attempt at chit-chat, I commented on the unusualness of her name, and jocularly inquired if her parents were hippies or scientologists.

Her: What's so funny about the name 'Clear'.

Me: [beginning to wish I'd never mentioned the subject] There's nothing funny about it -- it's just such an unusual name.

Her: It's not unusual -- there must be thousands of women in New Zealand called 'Clear'.

Me: [absolutely astonished] Really? I've never met anyone else called 'Clear' in my entire life. Is it spelt with a 'C' or a 'K".

Her: C... L... A... I... R... E.

My own humiliations are, however, utterly dwarfed by a superb misunderstanding that I overheard on the bus the other day.

A young mother and son had climbed aboard at a childcare centre called Caring and Sharing. They took a seat opposite to an elderly lady and her groceries.

Elderly lady [to little boy]: Where have you been today?

Young mother: He's been at Caring and Sharing.

Elderly lady: Shearing? He's a bit young for that, isn't he?

Young mother: No, Caring and Sharing believes in learning to share as early as possible

Elderly lady: Really? I thought it would be all computers and that, nowadays.

Young mother: Oh no, learning to share is much more important than computers.

Elderly lady: Well, I never! The farmers will be pleased, I suppose.

Young mother: Oh, here's our stop [grabs child and disembarks].

This is the kind of solid-gold misunderstanding that leaves me almost speechless with delight. And, best of all, the confusion was unresolved. It gives me scope to have happy visions of the elderly lady telling her friends about the new educational methods: "Gosh, you've no idea what they've got the little ones doing at kindy these days..."

... or perhaps arguing with her grown-up children:

Grown-up son or daughter: Mum, you must have got it wrong. They wouldn't be teaching pre-schoolers how to shear.

Elderly Lady: [doggedly sticking to her guns] No, I asked several times. She said they're all learning to shear at kindy nowadays. Apparently it's much more useful than computers.

There's even the joyous possibility that she may go to her grave believing that shearing is being taught at kindergartens. And perhaps it will even give consolation in her final moments -- knowing that the art of shearing has been passed to a new generation.

It makes me proud to be a New Zealander.

(140 responses)
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Public Address Science (transcript): Why You Shouldn't Invest in Perpetual Motion Machines (Energy Special, Part 6 of 12) | Jan 23, 2008 22:47

In my former life as a university lecturer (of the most temporary and unimportant variety), I often had mad inventors arrive at my office door-step.

On one such occasion, a Canadian flew all the way from Vancouver to ask me a question about Stirling engines. It was a trivial problem, which I could easily have answered over the phone, but he was so appreciative of my solution that -- by way of reward, I suppose -- he removed his trousers to show me the scars where a grizzly bear had bitten him on the arse.

If I say that he was practically the sanest inventor that I ever encountered, then this will give you some idea of the high standard of madness in the inventing business.

Of course, the typical inventor that I dealt with (in the field of energy engineering) usually thought he had devised a system that extracted energy from nowhere. In the energy business such devices are called Perpetual Motion Machines of the First Kind. But, from time to time, I would occasionally deal with inventors who claimed to have produced a 100 per cent efficient heat engine -- known as a Perpetual Motion Machine of the Second Kind.

Naturally enough, neither type of inventor was pleased to hear that thermodynamicists had long known such machines to be impossible. And, on one occasion, neither were the friends and relatives of the inventor -- who had been cleverly persuaded to sink more than two million dollars of their own money into his little energy scheme.

In fact, the realization that there is such a thing as energy -- and the subsequent proof of the impossibility of perpetual motion machines -- was one of the great scientific advances of the nineteenth century. This week's episode of Public Address Science (actually, ahem... from mid-November last year) looks at the contribution to human civilization made by early work in the science of thermodynamics.

Click here to read transcript

Click here to listen to the original audio on Public Address Radio

Click here to download an ultra-compressed podcast version

An archive of previous Public Address Science programmes can be found at publicaddress.net/science.

The DISCUSS button for this post can be found at the end of the transcript.

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January 2008 Will be a Bad Month for All Star-signs | Jan 10, 2008 19:22

Aries
Your spouse will bring you a nice cup of tea this evening. But don't drink it -- it's been laced with rat poison.

Taurus
Your neighbour will have finally had enough of your stupid dance music. When you answer the door he'll split your skull open with a claw-hammer. You won't stand a chance.

Gemini
Geminis tend to be physically very tall or very short -- although many Geminis are also of average height. At any rate, regardless of your height, you'll never see that truck coming. It'll snap your neck like a celery stick. You won't be so pleased with your fancy convertible car after that!

Cancer
You should watch out for icy footpaths this month. But it won't do you any good -- you'll still slip and break your wrist. Luckily you'll be able to call an ambulance with your cellphone, but on the way to the hospital the ambulance will crash. You'll 'technically' survive the crash, but in the ensuing inferno you'll be barbecued like a suckling pig.

Leo
You'll wish you'd kept your tetanus jab up to date after you step on that rusty nail. But by then it'll be too late, won't it? There's not a thing doctors can do once you've contracted tetanus. Even the slightest noise will send you into paroxysms of pain. The doctors will have to pry open your jaws with a crowbar to get food and water down your throat. But, of course, that will merely prolong your last few excruciating days of life. And all because you "couldn't be bothered" to get that little injection -- you stupid wanker.

Virgo

This month a troupe of line-dancing clowns will strip you naked, tie you to a post in the town square, and flick you with wet towels. Then they'll decapitate you with a pair of giant 'humorous' scissors, and dance around the outskirts of town with your head on a stick.

Libra
A group of steam engine enthusiasts will take you to a large children's slide, which they have lined with cheese graters. They will repeatedly force you down the slide until every scrap of skin has been flayed from your buttocks. Then they'll squirt your buttocks with lemon juice. And then they'll drive over your head with a steam-roller.

Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn
All three of these star-signs will receive a parcel containing a copy of Paul Holmes's autobiography and self-titled CD.

Aquarius
You will be kidnapped by dwarfs who will take you to the top of a tall building and drive fish-hooks under your kneecaps. They'll attach rope to the fish-hooks and then throw you off the building. Halfway through your fall the ropes will tighten and tear off your kneecaps. Then, when you hit the ground, the rapid deceleration will cause your head to smash apart like a ripe watermelon.

Pisces
At the beginning of this month you'll fall down a coal mine, and break both legs. Unable to walk, you'll gradually become weaker and weaker as the month progresses. Eventually you'll be unable to fend off the hordes of ravenous rats -- who'll begin to devour you while you're still alive, and fully conscious. No-one will care.

Note: David Haywood is New Zealand's most famous and most accurate astrologer.

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