whenever i hear north americans talking I suddenly conjure up the idea: do these people have a nasal cavity, or are they simply fashioned with the old-school stereotypical impression of the french phonetic bias of the english, i.e.: their stiff upper-lip and their constant cold. touché… replied the englishman, you've been smoking so many cigarettes that you morphed the trilling of the R into a harking hyena sound? why do native speakers have the audacity to think they speak better english, than those acquiring the tongue, esp. the irish? pompous leprechauns i call them; i have a hating for the irish of england attempting integrating, just like i “love” cockroaches, esp. the ****-sure males, 2nd generation kinds… i’d love to scalp these *******… it’s an inhibited pleasure that resides in the head, but it’s still there… once in a pub i found one idiot drum-tapping his nervousness while I returned from the toilet; are these ******* idiots even thinking, or simply “thinking” guinness pour me another pint past the hour of 11? ******* shamrock hikers, spot me a green lucky gem up that mould you call a “mountain”? and i actually did think international football matches took place at Ibrox… look how well i integrated, they actually take place at parkhead; just look at how i picked up on local differences, and actually chose a side! no, I’m well passed integrated, i’m ******… i’ve become a pole as huguenot as any purple or beetroot might be… but i’ll still find the north American accents a missing nasal cavity… it’s like the former english masters cut off all the noses… gnaw gnaw qua qua quack: penguins clapping with teacher bound by the code of seal, suggesting: there really is no other alternative, other than a wet snare in jazz, or in your case, a wet flipper.