Monday, October 30, 2006

As The World Tans

Previously, on 'As The World Tans'...

'Doooooooooook!! What do you mean, there is a new tanning salon opening across the street??! We will be put out of bishness!!!!'

[dramatic voiceover]

- Will SunDaze survive?
- Will the new salon force Dirk and Hilde into the 20th century?
- Who is the mysterious owner of the new salon?

.... find out, on this week's episode of 'As The World Tans'....

Dirk: Oooooooooiiiii Hilde!!! Look at thish promotional flyer!!!

'New Tanning Salon open! Special introductory discounts!
Convenient opening hours. Friendly service. Latest model sunbeds.
Professional staff. Clean environment. Credit cards accepted.'

They are everything we are not!!! We will be deshtroyed!!!!'

Hilde - [shrugs shoulders] - 'I am not worried. We have loyal customers. They will not defect to this fancy Sun Palace across the shtreet!'

Dirk - 'but Hilde! We have 43 staff on our payroll! 11 are on job share and work 12 minutes a week each! The other 32 are on permanent sick leave! We are close to going under as it is! And now thish! Ooooooooiiiiii!!!'

Hilde - 'do not worry Dirk, I have a plan! Let us do some indushtrial eshpionnnnage! Let ush shee what we are up againsht!! After all, their flyer may just be all lies! Remember - our shign shays we also are friendly and clean, but you shecretly film the girlsh when they are doing the tanning and watch the filmsh with your friendsh - ho! ho! ho!'

Dirk - 'yesh, Hilde - as usual you are right. You go and shee what these Sun Palace people are made off......'

[Scene 2: in the lobby of Sun Palace].

Sara - 'Hi there! Welcome to Sun Palace! My name is Sara. What can I help you with today?'

Hilde '[eyeing her up and down scornfully] - yesh, I am here to have a tan! - what elshe?'

Sara - 'ok, if you don't mind me saying so, you have rather a deep, deep colour as things are. Have you just come back from holiday?'

Hilde '[proudly] - I was in my camper van in Hilvershum! But I am naturally very bronze!'

Sara - 'well, have you been on a sunbed in the last 3 days?'

Hilde - 'of courshe! what is wrong with you?!'

Sara - 'really, I don't think it would be safe for you to tan any more for a while. We have very high standards of care here at Sun Palace. I really do think your skin would benefit from a rest for a few days. Perhaps you'd like to consider a rejuvenation therapy instead?'

Hilde - 'you Americansh make me shick! Coming here thinking you know everything! What about him?! [points at Sara's assistant]. He hash an even bronzer colour than me!! You probably let him use your shunbed!!!'

Sara - 'Er, he's black, I'm from Antwerp, and I was just making a suggestion. Of course, you are welcome to use our sunbeds if you choose to do so.'

Hilde - 'YA! Lekker! Yesh, I go for the Turbo Bronze for 45 minutesh.'

Sara - 'the maximum time allowed, for safety reasons, is 10 minutes. That will be €7.'

Hilde - '[blinking] what will be €7?'

Sara - 'your 10 minute sunbed session.'

Hilde - '€7??!!! For 10 minutesh!! You can get the Crishpy Duck Special for that!!'

Sara - 'sorry, what? I'm not sure I follow - what has a Chinese restaurant promotion got to do with our pricing?'

Hilde - 'You fool! The Crishpy Duck Special is mine!! At ShunDaze - across the shtreet - all you can tan for €7!! I have sheen enough here! Austublieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeft!!!!'

[Scene 3 - back at SunDaze]

Hilde - '[cackling] Dirk, they cannot shucksheed. The place will close within a week! The prices they are charging, no-one from the village will go! They are outshidersh too!'

Dirk - '[applying blister cream to Hilde's face] - you are so clever! But wait - who's that at the door?'

[Dirk goes to answer the door, and returns with a strange man].

Hilde - who are you?

Dirk - he shays he's the owner of Shun Palace!

Strange Man - don't you recognise me, Hilde?

Hilde - '[squinting] - Bobby??!!'

[dramatic voiceover]

- who is Bobby?
- what will become of Sun Palace?
- has Hilde had her last Crispy Duck special?

...... tune in next time for more 'As the World Tans'...

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Freaks of Nature

I've been resisting the temptation for several weeks to rant about my neighbours. I figured that I was simply unlucky to be living amongst such a bona fide collection of freaks. That the topic, or my experiences, were not universal enough to be the subject of a posting. But having consulted more widely, it appears that I am not alone in suffering neighbour-induced hell. Though I challenge anyone to have quite so many traumatic encounters as I do.

We all live in a house on one of the canals in central Amsterdam. My partner and I are up on top; then there's 2 sets of neighbours on the floor below; and another on the ground floor. Plus several adjacent neighbours with terraces which adjoin ours. All of them are Dutch.

Now, I am a good neighbour. I've never lived in a big, detached house or anything: it's been apartments all the way, with people above, below, and on either side. I've never had any difficulty with any of them. We all paid our bills; kept our place and common areas clean; taken deliveries for each other, you know the kind of thing. Equally, I've never become bosom buddies with a neighbour: it's been more a cordial 'let's look out for - but not stalk - each other' kind of arrangement.

Except in Amsterdam. The neighbours' issues range from exhibitionism, to racism, to inappropriate interference, to out and out psychosis.

Neighbours Number 1: Fists of Fury

29 minutes after we moved into our apartment, we got our first complaint from our downstairs neighbours. The issue? Music. Not loud, raucous music. Not music at an unsociable hour either. This was at around 4.30 on a Saturday afternoon. We were unpacking all our crap from our move from London and so I put on some music to get things moving. You know how it is. Admittedly, the music was probably too loud to carry on a conversation if you were sitting right beside the speakers, but it was certainly nothing socially unacceptable - you could still hear traffic outside and church bells, for example.

'Bang! Bang! Bang!' - fists on the door. I answered it.

'Hello - I am your neighbour. Turn off the music'.

Picture the scene. I'm fresh off the plane and new to Amsterdam, so I haven't fully realised the social horrors that await. So I took this exchange at face value. The guy was about my age (34), maybe a bit older. I could tell, instinctively, that he was on edge about something: he was a bit twitchy and stony-faced. So I said 'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was that loud? I'll turn it down.'

With that, he managed a half-smile and said 'so you are moving in?'
- 'Yes, we just got here. We've moved from London; I've come to start a new job and we're....'
- [interrupting] 'We are used to having no-one live here.'
- 'Oh - right. Was the flat empty for long?'
- 'Yes.'
[awkward silence ensues]
- [brightening] 'well maybe you will come down for a drink tomorrow when you are unpacked? But remember - no music!'

Classic passive-aggressive behaviour. So I turned down the music a bit and we got on with our unpacking.

About an hour later, there was another 'bang! bang! bang!' on the door. I answered it again.

- You are walking! Stop walking!
- Excuse me?
- You are walking on the floor! Stop it!
- Sorry. What?!
- We can hear you! [points upwards]. The walking is too loud! Stop it!

And with that, he turned on his heel and left.

Did he want me to fucking levitate? It was clear by this stage that he was a total crank, so I figured best keep out of his way and not to antagonise him unduly.

The next morning, there was a letter pinned to our front door. "We can hear EVERYTHING. The apartment is very old. We can hear you walking and what you are saying." Hilarious! (I think I still have the letter somewhere; if I do, I'll scan it and post it online). What a complete freak!

Now, any time we play music or turn on the television, he or his girlfriend bound up the stairs and pound the door furiously with their fists. When we ignore them, one goes down to the street and starts ringing the intercom, while the other continues to pound and pound on the door. It's absolutely hilarious! I must video it.

Neighbours Number 2: Support Knickers

The woman on the ground floor is a psychoanalyst's dream. Neighbours Number 1 are just straightforward nutters, but this woman presents a gamut of symptoms. In a nutshell, she is the most intrusive, nosey, interfering person; prone to making unsolicited racist remarks; and typically clad in a sturdy pair of support knickers. Only.

I reckon she's about 55. Now, bits of my body are already beginning to head south at the age of 34, so I have no issue with her decision to wear enormous control pants. But could she put on a skirt, or shorts, or something? Anything?

You may even have seen her? She typically sits in a stuffed armchair by the window watching EVERYTHING that goes on in the street outside. It is now almost impossible to leave or enter the building without her running around the hallways in her support knickers, accosting you, and saying things like 'there's a letter for you there: it's from London!!' or 'I see you arrived home in a taxi the other day!!' On Monday and Thursday mornings, when the garbage is collected, she's typically outside on the street, coquettishly handing bin bags to the dustmen - yes, in her underwear.

She thinks all black people are drug dealers and freaks out if she sees a black person entering or leaving any of the neighbouring buildings, warning us to 'beware'.

She has made it a personal crusade to be given keys to everyone's apartments in the building. She says this is necessary in case there's a fire. Bollocks: she's just nosey. She even wrote to our landlord, demanding keys, saying that we had given permission (we hadn't). I've seen her skulking around one of the other neighbours' apartments when she was away on holiday. When we were on holiday, she was in our apartment, saying she thought there was a leak.

In total, I have had about 300 interactions with her over the past 7 months. That's more than my own mother.

Neighbours Number 3: Outdoor Spa

The guy who lives in the building next door has a terrace which adjoins ours. He was the inspiration for my 'Grandpa's Dick' posting a while ago.

Yes, I know I am probably being prudish, and that public nudity is not such a taboo in continental Europe. But still. Maybe if was just sunbathing, or taking the air, it wouldn't be so much of an issue. But I think it's the combination of his nudity, with his other unconventional behaviour that is causing me some difficulties.

In particular, he recently got himself a girlfriend and they have taken to having baths together. Not in the privacy of their bathroom, with scented candles and oils, or whatever. But in a crappy tin bath on the terrace. With a hose.

In fairness. Seeing Grandpa's Dick is one thing. But seeing it swinging like a dodgy pendulum as he soaps his 80 year old girlfriend's tits with a hose and a bottle of Fa is a bit much.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

One, Two, Five

A comment on one of my postings recently said that only about 30% of Dutch people went to university. I couldn't believe this, so did some digging. In fact, the situation is even worse! Only about 20% of Dutch people between 19 and 23 are in full-time education. That's staggering!

Though when you reflect upon it, perhaps it's maybe not so surprising after all...

Traditionally, universities are places where you go to learn new things, as well as to broaden your horizons and prepare for adult life. As most Dutch people don't value learning, culture or novelty; hate different things and people; and are terrified of any form of change or evolution, perhaps it is not surprising that so few of them go on to study anything and go straight from high school to sick leave.

I live in the centre of Amsterdam village, quite close to Amsterdam 'University'. I was intrigued to find out more, so managed to get into the English faculty and found the following excerpts from an English degree exam paper.


AMSTERDAM UNIVERSITY
FACULTY OF ENGLISH


You have invited a friend for dinner and need to buy a herring at the fishmonger.

Complete the following gaps with the word or words you believe most appropriate.

Time Allowed: 8 hours

"Dooooook! Oy! __! I would like to buy a _____!"
"That is not ___________. You must buy at least 5 herrings at a time."
"But I only want ___!"
"That is not _________.""
"Why not?!"
"________ are lekker: everyone knows that."
"OK - better give me 5 _______."
"We are out of _________, but we do have some salmon."
"Why didn't you just say you had no herrings! OK - better give me the salmon"
"It is not my _________________! I only sell herrings!"
"Well can I speak with the person who sells _____?"
"That is not _________"
"Why not?!"
"He has a cramp. He is on long-____ sick leave."
"Maybe you ____ sell me the salmon?"
"It will take too much ____"
"_____ you could pretend the salmon is a big, pink herring?"
"That is not ________"
"I want to speak to someone else!"
"_____ will not help ___"

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Political Science

"There is no such thing as society: there are individual men and women, and there are families".

So said Margrit van Thatcher, Dutch Prime Minister, in 1987.

What's that? She wasn't Dutch? She was British? Her real name was Margaret Thatcher? Boy, do I feel silly!

Imagine thinking that a woman would be allowed to become Prime Minister of Holland!

The more I experience of Dutch society, the more I am reminded of this quote. Again, Holland has done a great marketing job. The received wisdom is that Holland is a lovely, socially cohesive, nice, middle-of-the-road place, in which the extremes of unchecked capitalism, or unfettered socialism, are nicely balanced in a big, orange, fudge.

The reality is that the poor Dutchies are confused between, on the one hand, having a divine sense of personal entitlement in the face of the rest of society and, on the other hand, no clue how to improve their lot and expecting the Dutch state to figure things out for them.

Maybe it's the fact that these 2 irreconcilable concepts are constantly competing with each other for prominence that leads, inexorably, to that Dutch torpidity, resentment and indolence with which we are all so familiar?

Let's look at both sides of the equation.

1. Me, Me, Me!

Each Dutch person believes that they are entitled to whatever it is they want, and that their needs are paramount above everyone else's. Critically, this sense of entitlement does not depend on hard work or knuckling down: it's yours by birthright, simply because you are born Dutch.

The 'me, me, me!' mentality finds its logical expression in the 'live and let live' mantra which the Dutch are so fond of quoting. 'Live and let live' means, in fact, the diametric opposite of what the Dutch marketeers would have us believe. It does not mean 'let's all live together in harmony: I won't get in your business, if you don't get in mine'. In reality, it means 'I'll behave exactly as I please - if you don't like it, tough - and I'll trot out this 'live and let live' bullshit to justify my behaviour'.

Some examples:

Your average Dutch waiter or shop assistant believes that their job is a temporary staging post on the way to something more fulfilling. It's not like in L.A., where many service staff are harbouring ambitions to become movie stars: it's rather more mundane than that. Instead, the key aspiration is to win the lottery; find a load of cash; or get on long-term benefit: some way of turning their dream of sitting on their arse doing nothing into a cossetted reality, that's funded by somebody else.

This is why your attempts to get service or attention are competing with the Dutchie's innate desire to squat on a scatter cushion, eating herring-waffles, and whose idea of dynamism is to shift the majority of their body weight from their left arse-cheek to the right. That is the Dutchie's divine right and is more important than yours, even if you are a paying customer.

Similarly, if a Dutchie in your apartment building decides they want to dine al fresco, they won't contemplate spending money on a restaurant. Rather, they'll carry their crappy old table and chairs onto the doorstep of the building, and sit there, blocking the entrance, munching herrings and farting. 'I'm in the way and you want to get into the building? Can't you see I'm having dinner? Live and let live!'

You were relying on me, your co-worker, to help you out with something? I'd much rather be at home, doing nothing, but getting paid. In fact, I can feel a cramp developing. Looks like I'm going to be out of action for months!

2. State Aid

The other side to the equation is that the Dutchie expects someone else to create their world for them. Although every Dutch person has an innate sense of entitlement to everything, it is never up to them to make their vision of how their world should be into a reality. In short, this is summed up in that other classic, Dutch expectoration 'it is not my resssshponsssshibility!!!'

So whose is it? It doesn't really matter, so long as it's not the Dutchie's. This is a society in which it is perfectly acceptable to do absolutely nothing in your job; go off on long term sick leave for months, on full pay; return to do absolutely nothing; then go out on sick leave again, over and over in an endless cycle. The justification? Because there will always be someone else to cover and take responsiblity (even though there never is).

This is the land of the micro-job, where you have to deal with 7 or 8 people separately, in order to effect the simplest transaction. This structure has not arisen because each person has an important role to play in the chain: it's so that when, inevitably, what you want to achieve is not posssshiboll, or will take too much time, that there are plenty of other people to point the finger at, because "it was not my ressssshponssssshibility!!!"

The Dutchies see nothing wrong or opposite in their twin core beliefs that: (1) they should be allowed do whatever they want and each individual is more important than everyone else; but (2) they have absolutely no responsibility in making anything happen for themselves.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Mind Your Language!

Look! Here's an extract I received from a Dutch video-training manual for those inbuggering courses where foreigners are forced to learn Dutch! It's intended to familiarise the Dutch teachers about all the weirdo foreigners they're going to have to deal with! See it here.

Ok, ok - I made it all up. It's actually the opening sequence from a 1970s British sitcom. Does anyone remember this TV show? It was about foreign students learning English and was truly woeful, relying on all kinds of national stereotypes for humour. So the Italian guy was always saying "Mamma Mia!" and the Indian guy was always saying "goodness gracious me" etc. Actually, it would probably go down a treat in Holland in 2006; maybe as part of a Mr Bean double bill special?

Anyhow, I was reminded of the show when attending a conference last week. There was a bunch of us there from all over the place, and English was the common language in which most people conversed when not speaking with someone else who spoke their native tongue.

Now the Dutch speak good English and, typically, learn it from the age of 4 or 5 at school. They have a greater fluency and several years of practice more than, say, your average Pole or Hungarian. So it was interesting to compare the different ways in which people expressed themselves in English; in particular, how the Dutch people's choice of words and style revealed their underlying personality traits and character.

In conversation with non-Dutchies, when you ventured an opinion or view about something with which the other person disagreed, they'd usually say something like "Really? Do you think so?" Or "Why do you think that?" or "I have a different view" or "My view is that....". That kind of thing; basically a way in which you can have a good exchange of views, but keep the conversation moving along nicely.

Except for our Dutch friends. "No, no, no, no, no, no - I am 100% certain that I am absolutely right. In fact I am sure of it." This was the riposte I received 15 seconds into my first conversation with a Dutchie. What were we debating? It wasn't some incontrovertible fact, like what's the capital of Bolivia?; or some conjecture, like who will win the F.A. Cup?, but rather the name of someone we both (allegedly) knew in common; who I had hired at my previous company; known for 7 years; and had spoken to the day before, in person. In contrast, the Dutchie thought he may have worked with her a couple of years ago, but, nevertheless, based on his logic, I had somewhat embarrassingly been calling her by the wrong name for 7 years.

I decided to change the subject and talk about Prague (where the conference was located). I said 'such a beautiful city' (which it is), or some other small-talk-conference-speak thing like that, to which his reply was "I took some photographs earlier around the place - very disappointing, because normally all of the photographs I take are amazing. Even if the subject is not very good!"

Our scintillating conversation then moved on to talking about the conference itself. I asked him had he attended in previous years? No, first time for him - as it was for me. So I said that I thought this was the third year the conference had been run? He waved his hand in my face and said "no, you are quite mistaken. I know for a fact that this is the fourth year! In fact, I am sure of it!"

So I had some fun with him for a while by saying things like 'I thought Amsterdam was in Germany?' and 'don't you think that the Dutch language will cease to exist in 3 or 4 years', but to be honest with you, it was diminishing returns sense-of-humour-wise - ie, he didn't have one.

It was time to dump him on some other unfortunate in the room. I saw a couple of other people who I knew and so asked if he knew them? "I have absolutely no idea who they are. I've never met them in my life before!" Er... a simple, 'no, but it would be lovely to meet them' would have done it. With that, I said, "you know, I think I left the iron on in my room, I better go check"". I didn't bother to wait to hear the "no, no, no, no, no you are quite mistaken!"

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Lounge Lizards

I've been travelling this past week on business. Due to the amount I travel for my company, I recently got a gold card for klm, and received a leaflet explaining all of the benefits to which I am now entitled. The one that sounded most useful was lounge access: from now on, I'm entitled to use the klm lounge at Schiphol, even when travelling economy.

You can tell a lot about how boring my life in Holland is by the fact that this is one of the most exciting things that has happened to me in months.

The other morning, I decided I'd try it out and made my approach to the klm lounge. When I got to the door, there was a handwritten sign outside it, on which someone had scrawled the word "FULL". Now, I've lived here long enough to know that this was exceptionally unlikely to be the case, and that, rather, the subtext of the sign meant "PLEASE GO AWAY - WE HAVE MAGAZINES TO READ". As I was pondering my next course of action, the doors to the lounge swung open and about 8 businessmen exited.

I therefore figured that, at worst, the lounge must now be full, minus 8 people. So I went in. 3 klm staffers sat behind the counter. 2 were chatting to each other, the third was.... reading a magazine. I decided I would approach her and went up to the desk, said "good morning", and smilingly proffered my boarding pass and card. Without looking up from her magazine, she simply pointed a dirty-fingernailed, nicotine-stained, wrinkly hand towards the door where the "FULL" sign stood.

I didn't say anything (I was actually a bit stunned), and stood there. She flipped the page in her magazine, making no attempt whatsoever to communicate or even make eye contact with me. I looked across at her 2 friends who were still too engrossed in their conversation even to be aware that there were customers waiting to be served.

So I decided I'd just ignore them, as they had done me, and go right on in. The place was busy, certainly, though 2 things caught my attention: (1) there were plenty of empty chairs around the place; and (2) it was absolutely filthy.

As I was taking about my 6th step past the reception, one of the talking girls shouted after me: "Shur - it is not posssshibolll. It is very bisssssshy."

I returned to the desk. I was livid. "I'm so sorry - I didn't want to interrupt your conversation earlier and your deaf-mute colleague is busy reading about Big Brother, so I figured I'd just come in. Also, for your information, the lounge isn't full. By a quick reckoning, I'd say 20% of the seats are free. It is completely filthy though. Why the 3 of you aren't fired immediately is beyond my comprehension."

And with that, I continued into the lounge, and got a coffee. I felt like such an asshole. It is pretty out of character for me to speak to people like that, but my outburst wasn't really about this latest episode of imbecility from the Dutchies: I guess it was the dam breaking after several months of drip, drip, drip: the daily grind of trying to get anything accomplished or any modicum of professionalism or service from the Dutch. I didn't feel like saying "maybe you could look up from your magazine and talk directly to me?" or "maybe you could stop chatting; take down the misleading sign from outside; and run this place professionally for your paying customers?" Not today, at any rate.

Monday, October 02, 2006

Coochie Coo

Do a survey of "nationalities that are known to be charming" and I guarantee you the Dutch won't feature highly. So it's ironic that you have to employ all your skills of flattery, encouragement and diplomacy to charm them into doing something for you.

I'm not taking about charming someone in the traditional sense: you know, where the person you want to do something doesn't really want to do it, but with a bit of banter, compliments and a few smiles, you can often figure out a solution. Rather, I'm talking about all the extra work you need to put in with the Dutch.

You're not drawing on a deep well of decency here, where, with a bit of effort, you can influence the other person to seeing your point of view. In Holland, the process is significantly more laborious and cumbersome and requires you to:

1. surmount the Dutchie's suspicion and hostility at being asked to do something in the first place;

2. figure out some solutions to the problem (because they certainly won't);

3. tentatively suggest the solutions, while at the same time being full of praise and encouragement for the Dutchie; and

4. make the Dutchie think they're doing you a great service by using the solution which you identified for them in the first place.

Exhausting, but true. If you don't believe me, next time you're trying to persuade a Dutch person to provide you with something you want, be alert to how many of the sentences in your interaction commence with the words "maybe you could....?"

It is ridiculous how much work you have to do to offset their infantilism.

Suppose you're at a store and ask to purchase something. Suppose you're given one of the Holy Trinity of Dutch service responses: 'that is not posssshibolll'; 'that is not my reshponshibility'; or 'that will take too much time'. Rather than getting frustrated, or leaving, maybe try a 'maybe you could...?'

'Maybe you could look up the price in your manual?'

'Maybe you could phone your other branch to see if it's in stock there?'

'Maybe you could let me pay by credit card, because if you don't, I can't buy this item?'

And so on. The Dutchie will listen to your suggestion before imperiously deciding whether they can be arsed to exert the single calorie required to do what it is you're asking them to. It's critical at this stage to smile at and encourage the Dutchie, much like you would coddle a baby or indulge a toddler. Then tell them that they have been so helpful and smart to think of the solution in the first place.

It sounds completely trite and banal, but it works! The other day, I went through this whole rigmarole and watched as the sales assistant stood up straight, nodded sagely at me, and said "yesh - it is possshiboll" - as if bestowing some divine right on me, when all I wanted to do was pay for something, but collect it a couple of hours later.

Initially, I was summarily informed: "it is not possssshibolll", but by applying my new theory, I got to "Yesh - it is possssshibollll" in 5 easy steps:

1. Me: 'I'd like to pay for this now and collect it in a couple of hours - ok?'

Them - 'It is not possshibolll'

2. Me - 'Maybe you could let me pay for it now and take it away now?'

Them - [caught slightly off guard] 'Yesh...'

3. Me - 'Or, maybe you could let me come back in a couple of hours and buy it then?'

Them - [now definitely confused] '...Yesh....'

4. Me - [quickly] 'So maybe, then, we could split the difference and you could let me pay now, but collect later?'

Them - [chews cud; doesn't really understand what's happening; so is about to go into default 'it is not posssshibolllll' mode]

5. Me - [Smile indulgently; ] - 'Thanks so much for coming up with this solution! It's extremely thoughtful of you!'

Them - [blinking] 'Yesh - it is posssshibollll'