Lost in Translation, or, Chinese Whispers

I have thousands of pictures in my iPhone's camera roll. Occasionally I try to go through and delete batches of them, but still they mount up.

During one such attempted clean-out while standing in a queue this weekend, I found shots from my trip to China earlier this year, which I had always intended to form into a hopefully-interesting-sort-of-post.

One of my favourite things about visiting China is seeking out odd products, and even better, the mistranslation of product descriptions into English. I think it's because Chinese is a very visual, descriptive language, and the transplanting of those concepts into English is either innately pretty or hilariously off-putting.

For example: These wax strips are described as "Depilate Sacrificial Paper", and when you think about, that kind of makes sense. You are, after all, offering up your unwanted body hair to the temple of beauty. Note: these strips work best on human body limbs, so forget about waxing your ... cat.

Here's a helpful product to stop the waste plastic bags create. My favourite is the pleading catchphrase at the bottom of the pack.

This one was for some sort of music festival. I've got no idea what's going on.

A still picture doesn't really do justice to the "Shrilling Chicken". When you squeezed this toy, it let off a sound that can only be described as a busty soprano being steamrolled by a boiling kettle.

I'm pretty certain the "There are no ugly women only lazy women" line is credited to Coco Chanel. But who came up with "Clothes is women's face job", Buffalo Bill?

If memory serves, these didn't taste half bad.

And then there was this one. Again, no idea.  I almost bought this one, because I wanted to try to work out exactly what it was. My best guess was an ice-block mould in the shape of the dog turd. But I chickened out of forking over my hard-earned yuan for it because of the SWASTIKA EYEBALLS. I just didn't want to answer odd questions at Customs on the way back into Australia.

These next ones were my favourite. We took a day trip out to the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall, and our driver decided the best way to entertain us on the hour-long commute would be to whack on his pirated copy of noted singer Sarah Brightman's 2008 opus A Winter Symphony.

I can say that it was pirated because - beyond the obvious joke - the English lyrics to the songs were fantastically wrong. As in, I could sit here for days and not come up with a funnier match of song title and actual lyrics.

That's the lyrics of Jumpin' Jack Flash by the Rolling Stones, NOT Ave Maria. And it's followed by I Believe in Father Christmas, which bears a striking resemblance to Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves. As I said, comic fricking genius.

But the best was this one - and sadly I don't know the name of the song, but Canto Della Terra sure got a lot fruitier than Ms Brightman probably intended.

Have you got any good examples of strange products and crazy translations?

Queensland Police Pay Lip(ton) Service to Equality

The Queensland Police Service has denied allegations of sexism in its ranks, describing its female officers as a vitally important and attractive part of the force.

A review of the state’s emergency services by former AFP commissioner Mick Keelty highlighted examples of senior policewomen being asked to make tea at meetings.

“We don’t believe sexism is rampant in the QPS,” said Deputy Commissioner Russ McSweeney, sipping on a Twinings Earl Grey.

“Our female officers are treated with respect and dignity, nothing to do with cuppas or cup sizes,” he said. 

Deputy Commissioner McSweeney cited a recent case in which 29-year-old Constable Sheryl Jones was celebrated for her efforts in arresting a suspected shoplifter in the Queen Street Mall.

“She held the bloke down during a struggle, during which time buttons were ripped off her uniform issue shirtfront, exposing her lace bra,” he said.

“The boys made sure they took photographic evidence on their smartphones so Constable Jones could be appropriately honoured that Friday night at the pub.”

Deputy Commissioner McSweeney said the incident proved that highly skilled female officers were part of a well-rounded police service.

“Some of them are very well-rounded indeed,” he said.

Detective Inspector Maureen Srakowski said the service was a more positive place for women officers than when she first joined up.

“It was common in the early 1990s to receive a lot of abuse on call outs,” she said.

“It made sense - we were invading someone’s space and forcing them to improve their behaviour to a standard acceptable to the community.

Constable Mavis Duncan was poached by
the Academy while working at Starbucks.

“But still, it made it hard to actually get out of the paddywagon and arrest some bad guys.”

DI Srakowski, now a widely recognised expert in organised crime and drug trafficking, said anti-discrimination and workplace safety training had come along in leaps and bounds.

“Now I can go days without hearing a single ‘Remember your gun, sugartits?’”

Deputy Commissioner McSweeney said the key to building confidence and respect for female recruits lay in providing a variety of challenging opportunities.

“For example, C.I.B just purchased a new Nespresso machine, so we’ll have a range of coffee options for upcoming meetings as well,” he said.

“If they can make that cream frothing thing work, I say go the femmos.”

Felafel on Film

Today marks three weeks - three weeks! - until the curtains come up on He Died With a Felafel in His Hand at the Brisbane Powerhouse.

Of course we're in the Visy Theatre, which is a thrust stage, so there are no curtains, but you get the general idea.

I must admit this date makes the situation quite stark - while I'm happy with our progress so far there is a metric truckload of work still to be done.

In the meantime, please enjoy this wonderful Felafel taster film, courtesy of the very talented and very generous Ben Tantari.

You can book tickets to He Died With a Felafel in His Hand online now, or check out the backstory of how it all came about.

Thunderclap

My father retired recently. He's still working the odd job as a marine pilot, but he now finds himself with a whole lot more spare time to spend at the pokies beating The Man at his own game.

I am being cheeky here of course; my Dad is the eminently sensible kind of person who insists I put extra money into my superannuation, and so I'm sure his trips to the Kedron-Wavell Services Club are kept entirely within affordable means.

One of his retirement gifts was an Apple TV which, being a gadget nut, he had set up within 24 hours of receiving it.

I popped over this evening for dinner and to welcome my Gran, the esteemed Queen Pat herself, into town on her latest visit. She assures me that her arrival from Vanuatu was all about seeing family, and absolutely nothing to do with the recent seizure of 750kg of cocaine in Port Vila.

Après le dîner, my Dad busted out the YouTube app on the Apple TV.

"Oh! I have the YouTube," said my Gran cheerfully, still impressed with her recently installed broadband WiFi connection. "I've been watching Yes, Minister, and The Two Ronnies."

Gran picked at her cuticles as she told me about the YouTube - that's Yoo Tyoob in her English accent, not the ocker Yew Chube - and I picked at my cuticles as I listened.

The family resemblance is strong.

Dad found the clip he was looking for, and it started playing.

"The Grom!" he yelled triumphantly.

"The what? Your Daddy was on the Grom," said Gran.

"Yes, look, here it is!"

My grandfather, Maciej, was an officer in the Polish Navy, part of the section that escaped after the German invasion and put themselves under Allied command.

White Rabbits

A public service announcement:

I'm not exactly sure when the competition to say "Pinch and a punch" first began between The Wah and I.

All I know is that I usually lose. The Wah will pop up, usually under the guise of giving me a hug, which of course suckers me in.

But then it comes: the bite of fingertips into flesh, a stinging reality bomb that is ten times worse than the friendly follow-up cuff to the shoulder.

"Pinch and a punch!"

Cue The Wah flashing an impishly smug grin while I jump up and down yelling "Not again!"

Well! I remembered this month. BOOM.