With so much discussion in the media last week about speech impediments, I was reminded of the occasion, once upon a time, when I introduced myself to a new client, a farmer..
“It’s war,” he said, sadly. He didn’t look like a vengeful sort but I wondered if he was looking for a fight rather than seeking a collaborative option.
“No dinner,” and he heaved a sigh before continuing. “Bweeding heavy got me wed.”
“How many children, do you have?” I asked.
He eyed me curiously. “No children,” he replied.
“Oh, I must have misunderstood; I thought that was why you said you had got married.” I was obviously totally on the wrong track because he gave me another look, before seeking to explain his sorry state of affairs.
“No, wed from bweeding,” he repeated with a wheeze whilst tapping his chest demonstratively. “Whisky,” he declared emphatically.
(Bit of a drinker, I thought.)
“Cow was calving this morning,” he said, making small talk.
“Oh dear,” I responded. “It was good of you to keep the appointment, and, now you are here, how can I help?”
“Udder guy,” he replied.
I stopped. Had I heard correctly? I have acted for many farmers over the years and sometimes the terminology can get rather technical.
“A rope for the cow?” I queried, hesitantly.
I was obviously wrong as he again threw a strange look in my direction. There was no doubt; he thought I was totally mad
“Adulterwee,” he stressed; “Itsd rife!”