Same As It Ever Was

Screen capture of an article urging Britons to learn 1000 words in a foreign language as the country is losing out.

UK language skills haven’t come on much since Shakespeare took the piss in Merchant Venice, when Portia commented on her English suitor thus,

I say nothing to him for he understands not me nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian. He is a proper man’s picture, but, alas, who can converse with a dumb-show?

That and Mercutio’s death scene, ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man are pretty much my complete range of Shagspeare references which you may have noticed I drag out quite regularly. At the slightest excuse. Without provocation. However tenuous the link.


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Meanwhile In The UK Surveillance State Imagine you hired a detective to eavesdrop on someone. He might plant a bug in their office. He might tap their phone. He might open their mail. The
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That’s a bt f a an my kybad has statd mssng t ltts