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Thursday, June 21, 2012
a gastarbeiter. re-post
it's a repost of my note, first published on the blog.co.uk (about my activity on the site, please, read the intro-post on this blog).
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A Gastarbeiter-Sausage king
Two or three years ago, I was a fan of one TV show, the culinary show Supper Party (now left by me). One of the show competitors was a man from Britain--surprise!--and what was more surprising, the man could speak Russian like a Russian. Stunned, I listened to him, and I could hardly believe my own ears, since Russian language is known as one of most difficult. But it was so: a true English man speaking Russian like a true Russian. Coming in the first apartment, where the first Supper Party was to take place, he greeted the host with one very special greeting, used only in Russian army (why?), though no army-men were before his eyes, only the host, who was neither an army-man nor ex-army-man. The greeting also can be used ironically--but what irony, if he saw the host for the first time in his life, known nothing of the man? Irony to the show viewers? I still can’t understand why he greeted in this way. Before having the first supper, the participants talk sitting at table and introducing themselves, and from the first talk we could learn that the English man studied Russian since he was aged 12 (why? do you know of many young English boys who study Russian language?), that he had his own business in Moscow, that he used to be married in Russia (his wife was an Ukrainian or from south of Russia, but he said she was of Cossack origin because a “Ukrainian woman” sounds too discreditable for Moscow people), he fathered a son and then divorced. Many other participants of the Supper Party Show improved the opportunity advertising their own business on TV, and the Englishman was not an exception (how it could be otherwise, for he seemed so ordinary, so simple; only his Russian sounded outstanding). He had a sausage factory. The recipe of the sausages he brought from Britain--either his family recipe or national, I can’t remember. Tasting the first dish, he announced (for some reason) that British people had no a thought of adding pickled vegetables to salads. Why did he say this? Nobody asked him, and it was slightly off topic. As I think, his intention was hitting hearts of us all, anglophiles, who watched him and who always added pickled vegetables to salads as it is our custom in Russia. If so, then he succeeded, and his intention is either quite unintelligible or quite comprehensible showing how bilious the man was in his inner. A fair-haired 39-year-old man, sincere only when he bit, he told about his successful business and about himself a little. Being able to speak Russian language, he came to Moscow several years ago, got a job of a top manager at a Swiss firm, and then he began his own business in Moscow (why did he leave the good job?). His life story sounded so simple and so suspicious for me that after the show, I visited the website of the TV channel--the English man was on the forum--and I wrote a letter to him, saying that I felt certain that he was a spy. The very mode of his life--seemingly open to such an extent that it made doubt in his sincerity--sounded so usual for a spy, being what a spy was recommended to do in a foreign country (as far as I knew reading novels), that is, mingling as much as possible, improving every opportunity, and his excellent Russian was amazing and somewhat betraying his true profession, and I said that all this seemed so evident for me that I could not help writing to him. He did not reply, but I saw him very soon on a TV talk-show, where his speech he ended by saying something about “silly girls” or “she-fools”. Why? I don’t know why he expressed himself in this way. In virtue of the fact that he spoke in Russian, his words were intended for Russian girls. Taking it personally, I did not take offence, for really, that man never knew me.
The ending of the TV story is this blog posting. Only at present, two or three years later, I have found some free time to write down this true story set on the Net as well as in real life. I still feel certain that the man is a spy or something of the kind (a striking image of a spy for me, if you ask me), and his words about his studying Russian language when he was aged 12 sounds untruth; he simply had a gift for mastering foreign languages to perfection, and he was noticed by someone when he was a student and was invited to join a secret service (which is my supposition.) I find my supposition verisimilar and him I find very nice, though I shudder to think of trusting a man like he or entrusting something dear to him, and I dislike spies in general (who does love them?) Now, here is a link of the TV forum page where you can find his profile, clicking on the nickname Джонни with no photo (if you can’t see the profile, then you have to do registering on the forum):
His name is John Warren (the name is so simple, so ordinary, isn’t it?) My British online friends can write to him to ask about a name of his sausages in order to buy the sausages when they are on visit at Moscow.
I sincerely hope that my reader finds this story quite suggestive.
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At present, on the Net, one “John Warren” enjoys a role of DJ, writing on Russian blogs, defaming his homeland Britain, as though by the way, boasting about his Russian, in Russian, making stylistic errors which make suspect his alcohol intoxication, in short, showing himself as a socialite (which seeming half-openness corresponds a secret role of a spy, I’d say again), but I don’t know whether that DJ is the “hero” of my old blog post or not. Commenting the note, one blogger from the UK suggested that the “hero” was a Soviet spy sooner than British. Well it sounds yet more disgusting then.
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