
I was very impressed. Lots of great stalls, amazing costumes, lots to see, fantastic entertainment and thoroughly recommended that you go.
Slight downside is that it is pretty much too busy, and this ended up with me having a rather public row with some fellah. Basically the wife and I know that at around 7.15 the "parade" will start so we are wandering around this heaving mass of people at about 7pm wondering where it starts etc when...
This old german bloke with an Ozzy bush hat and ugly wife suddenly starts gabbing at me in Kraut. Now I have been to my lessons for six months, but he is too fast and too rude for me so the best I can say is "Ich verstehen Sie nicht". so he says quick as you like "OK which language?" and battle may now commence on an equal footing.
Actually I think at this stage he had just given away his advantage as I am around 30 years younger, 30 kilos heavier and whatever English he has learnt it is not going to compete with mine learnt driving in London traffic. Downside is that the spectators to our "modern-day-verbal-joust" are all square-heads so even when I win there is a chance they won't realise.
As it happens whoever wins I reckon I will be the long term moral winner because his ugly wife is attempting to disguise her face, as some German women do, by dying her hair that strange pink shade that a 15 year-old punk girl with attitude could probably get away with...but this sour-faced old bint never could.
But I digress and must get back to Crocodile Dun-D-Day and the pink pig. So I pretty much reply:
"Yes, I am English - what is the problem?"
and Herman replies (in pretty good English in his defence):
"Why dont you stand at the back? We have been standing here 20 minutes?"
and I am like:
"At the back of where precisely?"
and he says:
"We have been waiting here. You are English. Why don't you queue?". And the pig butts in with "He can't be English, he doesn't know how to queue".
(p.s. Congratulations if you made it this far)
So he gets it back between the eyes along these lines:
"Well I would love to queue if I had any idea where your fictitious queue starts or finishes. There are no barriers. There are no lines on the floor. There are no flags to mark a start or an end. There are no security guards, and in fact there is no queue - just people in all directions. Furthermore I don't even know what I am supposed to be queuing for or where it might be?".
At which there are a few giggles from the crowd, and Herman kinda mutters something along the lines of "Well I suppose so...".
To be fair it is the kinda tussle that could happen anywhere and in any language but I reckon I won. So Two World Wars, 1 World Cup and 1 Childish-row-in-a-crowd to us.
The Ritter Fest was great however, and I still like it here In fact the irony was that I just had my letter published in a UK magazine talking about the good stuff - scan to follow on another thread if I remember.
