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Notes from Lapta, Cyprus – “It’s Life, Jim, but NOT as we know it!” by Ken Dunn

This is a warning to all who hold the TRNC dear to their hearts. We may be facing a situation, not too far in the near future, where a burgeoning sub-species may well overrun all of us. I’m not talking about the political perambulations of attempts to unite the island, heaven forbid, the notion of being part of the EU, highly expensive, or the invasion of our rabid, misguided neighbours in the south hoping to reoccupy ‘everything’. This is a greater and much more dangerous threat, an insidious, creeping tide which has been growing, relentlessly, for well over twenty years, maybe longer.

These invaders can be easily identified via speech and attitude but, make no mistake, they are a very serious threat, not just to the existence of this pearl of a country, but to the whole of mankind. I came across a few of them, many years ago, their numbers were small then but that has changed. Their success at reproduction is phenomenal and continues unabated. They have infiltrated everywhere, and continue to do so. You may not realise it but they may well be in a villa next to you!

I will now tell you of my first contact with this pestilence and follow this with only two other examples. Each one being complete and total proof of my concern for us all. The important thing to remember is that, unless checked and, with luck, stopped, their exponential growth in numbers will run out of control. They breed at an extraordinary rate and will, sooner than you think, outnumber all of us and destroy our world. Be warned and judge for yourself but be afraid, be very afraid.

I speak of ‘they of the speech impediment’ variety, and their total ignorance of where they are, the culture, the history and the people of this sweet land. Characteristics of their ‘speech’ can easily be identified. As short example would be something like, ‘Oi! Gedd owva there an gedd me a f’n beer, yu dozy caa!’ or ‘Whaa? Ivv yu fink oim f’n goin awl that bleedin way just t’hev a f’n luk rown then yu ca kin gaw an f yawsewlf caantcha, eyh, eyh!’

It has taken years to decipher this kind of obtuse, verbal ‘communication’ and I have provided it so that you may familiarise yourself and take the appropriate action (move rapidly away) as soon as it cuts through the air towards you, as it surely will, sooner or later. So, now brace yourself for what is to come. This is not for the faint-hearted!

Many years ago in Girne harbour, I sat with my wife and a few friends enjoying the late morning. We were sitting above the promenade of the harbour at the Canli Balik restaurant and contemplating lunch. Not many tourists were about but then, a vehicle arrived, trailing a cloud of smoke. It stopped and out climbed a couple who, I deduced, were Brits. The number plate on the car gave that away and they were both a pasty, whitish pink rather than the darker skin of the locals.

The rather fat male of the duo swaggered over to the chairs and tables on the harbour side and sat heavily, scratching his crotch. His female partner joined him, sniffing loudly. He then loudly demanded to be served, although the waiter was already on his way. Many expletives were used, the primary one being ‘f’n’, all mixed into the objectionable hectoring for a drink and for that to be on the ‘f’n’ table quickly. The waiter scuttled off and a minute or so later brought out a couple of beers. This ‘oik’ then shouted at him to bring a ‘f’n’ menu and be ‘f’n’ quick about it. That was duly brought and they both sat there, he busily excavating his nose and she liberating her earwax, while they decided what to have.

Needless to say his attitude to the waiter continued in the same vein and we just sat there in disbelief at this crass behaviour. I have to say she was no better, agreeing with this lout at every complaint he made about the service, food and anything else he wasn’t happy about. Thankfully, they didn’t stay longer than forty minutes, throwing money to the table and driving off. But the registration of the car summed the whole thing up perfectly. It was, C121 OAF. The last three letters underlining all that he, and she, was.

That was the first time I remembered feeling embarrassed to be British. There are many times since when I have had the same feeling from other similar experiences.

My second example illuminates the heights to which some of these ‘people’ aspire. We used to stay with a family run Holiday Village in Alsancak. We’ve known them for years, since they first began the business, and are now lucky enough to have them as friends. We still call in to see them as often as we can, although we rarely stay there these days having our own place in Lapta.

Anyway, there we were one lunchtime and I couldn’t help over hearing a loud conversation from a couple a few feet away. Both of them were quite ‘rotund’, in their early thirties, sporting several tattoos and with a snotty, screaming child of equal proportions, the sex of which was impossible to tell.

She was asking him where they might eat that evening. A grunted, ‘Dunno’, was the answer. She then said, ‘Aww, babe, caan’t we go somewier, loike, speshul, loike?’Another monosalibic grunt. ‘Wewlllll,’ she said ‘Doncha ya fink we cudd go somewier, loik, reeely, reely speshul, loik, juss forra chaynjj, eyh, eyh? Wojja fink.’ Another extended grunt which I think was, ‘Roit. So, f’n where, loik?’

‘Wewlll, somewier a bit posh, loik, yeah, eyh, eyh?

‘So, f’n wier j’wanna f’n go den?’

The answer was immensely depressing.

‘Wewlll, babe, waja fink abart Burger City, eyh, eyh?’

My third tale of horror happened at a popular watering hole by the sea. An alfresco bar next to a pool with a restaurant was a magnet for many folk, locals and ex-pats, but on one day an invasion by a large family ruined it for all. They were all grossly over weight, all heavily tattooed, trailing several, stroppy, evil mouthed kids of varying ages and equal to the dimensions of their parents and again, sadly, British. They took up residence on either side of the pool and kept up a non-stop, shouted conversation with each other. Their offspring were running around all over the place, totally unchecked, diving and ‘bombing’ each other in the pool, spraying water everywhere. After half an hour several of the folk who had arrived before them left to escape the effect this group were having on the day and their time.

The last straw was the argument which suddenly broke out amongst them with lots and lots of ‘f’ns’ and blindings flying about, back and forth. The summary, or condensed version of this ‘discussion’ was something like this.

‘Wewlll, izz nott moi f’n turn! – Yezzit f’n is, cos oi diddit larst f’n toim. – Dijja? – Yerz, I f’n did! – Wewlll, it’s f’n toim ya f’n diddit agin, init, eyh, eyh? – Nowit f’n aynt! – Wewlll, OOZZ gonna f’n goan git the f’n benefits from the f’n UK this toim, eyh, eyh!!’

So there you are. That is the case for the prosecution. Make of it what you will, but ignore it at your peril. I leave you with a final statement, paraphrasing that great war leader, Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill.

‘We shall ignore them at the airport, overtake them on the motorway, shun them in Girne, the harbour, the holiday hotels, rented villas, restaurants and bars, misdirect them in the supermarkets and on the beaches, villages, roads, fields and mountains. We shall never surrender to their ‘oikdom’ or comply in any way until they bugger off to the South!’

Perhaps they’ll feel much more at home there!’

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