POLS APART

I have got more than used over the last year to Jenny's 'Germanisms', where she will either get a word hopelessly wrong, replace it with an even weirder word or just speak with such a strong Bavarian accent as to render her incoherent to your average Brit. I like to think I have grown accustomed to this by now though. However, I am less used to hearing Sylvia's (Jenny's Mum) who is over visiting at the moment. 

Sprawled out on the sofas with glasses of white wine and accompanied by an operatic backdrop they seemed the embodiment of chilled, which was why I found it surprising that her first question to me as I walked into the living room, in a very strong accent was:

"Alex, do you like Pol Pot?" 

 Convinced I'd heard her wrongly, I asked her to repeat herself. 

"Do I like Pol Pot?" I asked seeking clarification. 

 "Yes, do you like Pol Pot?" she confirmed. 

I wasn't quite sure what to say or in fact where this was leading. Whilst there are times when we all seek to be non-conformist to make a point, there are few people who when posed a similar question would come down on the side of supporting the actions of a man who killed hundreds of thousands of his own countrymen out of pure stubbornness. I gave the only answer it is reasonable to give in polite society: 

"Not really no. He was a bit of a bastard, wasn't he?" I said expecting instant agreement from all concerned. 

Sylvia looked perplexed and not just because I was talking in the past tense. "Why was he a bastard?" 

"Because he killed hundreds of thousands of his fellow Cambodians - for no good reason!" 

"What are you talking about - Cambodians?" 

I looked to Jenny for assistance. Clearly her mother was deranged. No support was forthcoming. 

"Yeah, Pol Pot - he was a dictator in Cambodia in the 1970s"

"But he would not have been old enough in the 70s" replied Sylvia. 

At this point, a light went off in Jenny's head and she came to my rescue. "I think there's been some confusion here - Alex - look at the CD on the floor." There next to the Xbox was a CD cover with the artist's name in big letters: 'Paul Potts'. 

Apparently he was the opera singing chap who won 'Britain's Got Talent' before that daft lad that dances in the rain (whose meteoric rise has known no limits since he scooped top prize) and I am told he is hugely popular in Germany (Potts that is, not the break-dancing Billy Elliott). 

I breathed a huge sigh of relief, although Sylvia still didn't believe that somebody called Pol Pot had been a dictator in the 1970s or any other decade for that matter. Praise the Lord that Wikipedia exists in German, as well.