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MISUNDERSTANDINGS (correct version)
“Any road” said the man with the skirt. After two hours passed driving through the heath and the fog, Marc was asking himself if he picked the wrong one or if the gentleman was mocking him, he heard it is common with foreigners like him.
He was heading to a little town where he would have spent the night. He was the only one in his office that could speak a little bit of English, so his boss sent him for a “quick job” in that bloody village difficult to find even on maps. He caught the plane overnight and that wouldn’t have been a problem, if a damned snowstorm occurred and delayed his arrival by five hours. Finally, the airport was chock-a-block with people, so even renting a car was a faff. By the time he reached his destination, it was already going to be dark.
It was foggy and the village seemed completely desert, making that place really dodgy. Suddenly, he saw a man walking at the side of the street with, Marc was counting, at least ten dogs.
“Evening sir” approached Mark, “I’m looking for the Holiday Inn, is this the right direction?”
“Bloody right” answered quickly the man “Mr. Kovaski? I’m Ethan the owner of the Inn, which is right behind the corner, I was waiting for you. I’ve just come out to take my pals here to piss. What take you so long?”
To Marc, the man looked like dowdy and sinister.
“A series of unfortunate events, at last, ambiguous indication that I’ve received. It took two hours from the airport” he replied.
“Bloody hell, are you taking the piss out of me here?”
Really strange question, thought Mark.
“I mean, I had a long journey, but I can still wait to reach the hotel, thanks”
The man first looked questioningly at Marc, then turned into Marc’s car looking for some alcohol, maybe the guy was a little drunk, it happens when you’re at a loose end, he thought.
“Are you already pissed?” reacted to Marc.
“Of course not, sir!” Marc couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. Who did he think he was talking to, a child?
“Cool down, pal, I was only asking. By the way, you seem knackered, would you fancy a cheeky grub?”
“Grub? I’m only craving for something warm to eat, please.”
The man nod but in his mind, he was sure Marc had taken a nip.
The Inn, without Mark surprise, was dowdy as the owner. It was sort of a pub where time seemed to have stopped a long time ago. All the surfaces, from tables to the bar counter, looked like as sticky as the floor where Marc was walking. The air was also suffocating and tasted like wet dog, in fact all the ten (or more?) dogs were making themselves at home everywhere.
It came out that the Inn had only one room available and that Marc had to share it with another foreigner that “went out for a walk and hasn’t come back yet”.
Marc had the chills, thinking about it.
“Cold?” asked the owner “I have just cooked the one for you and it will cost you only a tenner. Have a seat in one of those tables”.
Ethan came out of the kitchen after few minutes carrying a steaming bowl.
The dish was far from eye-catching, it consisted of two big meatballs drowned in a strange dense soup.
“What am I eating?” asked dispirited Marc.
The owner put a grin on his face, revealing a lot of missing teeth, and replied proudly:
“Oh… these are the Dog’s Bollocks!”
Marc suddenly turned pale. He thought of his never-ending day, he had been awake for more than 24 hours, he hadn’t had dinner, breakfast nor lunch, he got lost in the heath and he was craving for some sleep. Proudly, he remembered that he wasn’t a type that whines, so he bravely crossed the owner’s eyes and said: “Bon appétit”.
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1 Reply
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@Paolo you should be extremely proud of this story – I just love it. You’ve really got the slang spot on (faff! Ace!) 👏 Great job.
I’m sending you these corrections. Please review them and let me know if you have any doubts about anything, ok?
“Any road” said the man with the skirt. After two hours passed driving through the heath and the fog, Marc was asking himself if he picked the wrong one or if the gentleman was mocking him. (Take a new sentence here) He heard it is common with foreigners like him.
He was heading to a little town where he (would have – if you use this tense, it means that he was going to, but he didn’t. Use this instead:) he was going to spend the night. He was the only one in his office that could speak a little bit of English, so his boss sent him for a “quick job” in that bloody village difficult to find even on maps. He caught the plane overnight and that wouldn’t have been a problem, if a damned snowstorm HADN’T occurred and delayed his arrival by five hours. Finally, the airport was chock-a-block with people, so even renting a car was a faff. By the time he reached his destination, it was already going to be dark.
It was foggy and the village seemed completely DESERTED, making that place really dodgy. Suddenly, he saw a man walking ON the side of the street with, Marc was counting, at least ten dogs.
“Evening sir” approached Mark, “I’m looking for the Holiday Inn, is this the right direction?”
“Bloody right” answered quickly the man “Mr. Kovaski? I’m Ethan the owner of the Inn, which is right behind the corner, I was waiting for you. I’ve just come out to take my pals here to piss. What TOOK you so long?”
To Marc, the man looked (❌ like: to look like + a noun) dowdy and sinister.
“A series of unfortunate events, at last, ambiguous indication that I’ve received. It took two hours from the airport” he replied.
“Bloody hell, are you taking the piss out of me here?”
Really strange question, thought Mark.
“I mean, I had a long journey, but I can still wait to reach the hotel, thanks”
The man first looked questioningly at Marc, then turned TO Marc’s car looking for some alcohol, maybe the guy was a little drunk, it happens when you’re at a loose end, he thought.
“Are you already pissed?” HE SAID to Marc.
“Of course not, sir!” Marc couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. Who did he think he was talking to, a child?
“Cool down, pal, I was only asking. By the way, you seem knackered, would you fancy SOME cheeky grub?”
“Grub? I’m only craving for something warm to eat, please.”
The man NODDED but in his mind, he was sure Marc had taken a nip.
The Inn, without (delete: Mark) surprise, was AS dowdy as the owner. It was THE sort of (delete: a) pub where time seemed to have (STOOD STILL.) All the surfaces, from tables to the bar counter, looked like as sticky as the floor where Marc was walking. The air was also suffocating and tasted like wet dog, in fact all the ten (or more?) dogs were making themselves at home everywhere.
It came out that the Inn had only one room available and that Marc had to share it with another foreigner that “went out for a walk and hasn’t come back yet”.
Marc had the chills, thinking about it.
“Cold?” asked the owner “I have just cooked the one for you and it will cost you only a tenner. Have a seat AT one of those tables”.
Ethan came out of the kitchen after few minutes carrying a steaming bowl.
The dish was far from eye-catching, it consisted of two big meatballs drowned in a strange dense soup.
“What am I eating?” asked dispirited Marc.
The owner put a grin on his face, revealing a lot of missing teeth, and replied proudly:
“Oh… these are the Dog’s Bollocks!”
Marc suddenly turned pale. He thought of his never-ending day, he had been awake for more than 24 hours, he hadn’t had dinner, breakfast nor lunch, he got lost in the heath and he was craving for some sleep. Proudly, he remembered that he wasn’t a type that whines, so he bravely crossed the owner’s eyes and said: “Bon appétit”.
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