Humour: Mind your language, ang moh

Younger readers may lose me on this one, but there was a British comedy called Mind Your Language.

The show's most popular character was a Spaniard called Juan. He understood nobody and could only say "por favour" and "it's all right".

I have become Juan from Mind Your Language. If my behaviour continues, I'll grow his afro and handlebar moustache, too.

I'm here in Brazil for the World Cup; to watch the football and be reminded at every opportunity that I am a monolingual moron.

Brazilians speak only Portuguese. A handful might understand Spanish. Even fewer can converse in English.

When I order food in a café, I peruse the menu, point and say: "Por favour… it's all right!"

When I take a taxi, I point to a tourist map and say: "Por favour… it's all right!"

When I asked for a replacement part for my selfie stick, I said, "Por favour… it's all right" - which didn't even make sense.

The Portuguese accent in Brazil is so thick and colloquial that I cannot even ask for directions to the train station. So how do you think I managed to ask for a replacement part for my selfie stick?

For the uninitiated, a selfie stick is a telescopic rod that you attach a camera phone to, before extending it so you can take selfie photos from up to a metre away.

I'd been using this monopod device to make videos for the TNP app. (Not seen them? Go download the app now.)

I needed to make a minor repair, but I couldn't explain a selfie stick in Portuguese. Frankly, I'd struggle even in English.

So I mimed the operation.

This was not a smart move.

Using non-verbal communication to pull out a long, straight object at waist height, repeatedly, whilst saying, "Por favour… it's all right" does not impress hotel staff.

Miming the extending and retracting of a selfie stick faster and more excitedly only made matters worse.

While performing my selfie stick mime routine, I tried to reassure the woman on reception by saying: "I like to take photos. Por favour? It's all right!"

Perverts have been arrested for less.

Eventually, I found a Chinese-Portuguese woman running a camera accessories stall in an IT shopping mall and managed to describe what I needed using simple Mandarin.

We wanted to hug each other, like we'd discovered a long-lost relative. She'd never been to Singapore. I'd never been to China. And yet we bonded over some pretty awful Mandarin and a selfie stick.

At least she was aware of Singapore and its people and customs. Other folks have been less informed.

An England supporter said: "You're from Singapore? You must be a multi-millionaire then. You're all millionaires in Singapore, right?" Of course we are. My scruffy demeanour and subway rides are just a cunning subterfuge. I'm really in Brazil to do property deals with Fifa president Sepp Blatter.

Not really. He's not daft. He's seen the price of a five-room flat in Toa Payoh.

In Sao Paulo, a journalist from Israel was rather confused that I was a Singapore-based writer, rather than a scribbler from the UK. "But... you're white," he spluttered.

Nothing got past this guy.

"What's it like being a writer in Singapore? Everyone is quite rich over there, right?"

The stereotype was starting to irritate. So I handed the Ferrari keys to my butler and put the journalist firmly in his place.

But at least we could converse.

In cafes, my slow, deliberate attempt to say "I'm a vegetarian" clearly translates into "give me half a cow on a warm bed of rice and beans, my good man... and please make fun of me."

Through lots of pointing and miming, one waiter suggested that a) real men ate meat; b) I was lanky and lacked sufficient protein and c) England were not a very good football team.

It's hard to be humiliated by a guffawing, portly Brazilian waiter in a hairnet. So I slyly poked him with my selfie stick under the table.

Thanks to an English-speaking hotel receptionist, I now have a handwritten note in Portuguese, explaining my preferred dietary requirements.

A waiter read it and ordered me the perfect meal. Then he reeled off the list of drinks on the menu in Portuguese. I nodded and replied: "Por favour … It's all right!

This article was first published on June 22, 2014.
Get The New Paper for more stories.