BPO banged us good and proper. Left us with enough flotsam and jetsam to turn the patient pronunciation lessons of Mrs. Dixon and Mrs. Stevens inside out. Our primary school education, full of carefully dotted i’s and laboriously crossed t’s, vamoosed when the avuncular Sam brigade brought us business by night. Call centers were in, and out went the Queen’s English.
As newly faarin-returned, we have a snobbish right to preach to you the glories of the Brit tongue, to evangelize, sorry, evangelise the goodness of arse over ass, john over pot, et cetera.
Awrieee… never mind the dog’s bollocks, here’s the stuff.
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