I’ve mentioned my dad a couple of times on the blog. Each time, he was depicted somewhat negatively. So, I think it’s a good time for me to introduce him and give you a chance to meet him properly.

Meet…

So, my dad is Moroccan.  When he was little his family had a carpet shop and all. Picture Aladdin but without the monkey.

This makes me half Moroccan. The other half is German. My dad speaks approximately four languages fluently. One of them is not English.

My parents are big on languages and wanted to give us a chance to learn them from an early age.

Us children all attended English speaking schools so obviously we speak English like the fucking Queen. My dad does not. This made for some very interesting times in our house.

When we were little one of our favourite games to play was ‘Make Dad Say..’ The goal of the game was to make dad say the rudest words in the English language. My dad is somewhat arrogant. The idea that his three small children knew a word that he did not, did not sit well with him. He would therefore often pretend to know a word so as to not look like an imbecile.

Now, my dad isn’t stupid. He knows words like ‘asshole’ and ‘fuck’ are bad words.

So we had to be creative.

Sitting around the dinner table we would await the perfect opportunity to ridicule my dad.

My dad would say something harmless in German like…

 

And then one of us would pipe up and say:

 

Then we’d all burst out laughing because my dad said fanny tools.

 

Another time we’d ask ask him:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then we’d laugh some more because my dad wants to be a douche clam.

This game gave us endless joy and its entertainment value is still holding strong today. Even nowadays if my dad and I are having a heated discussion and he’s not budging, I’ll say in English “Daddy don’t be such a fart wipe..’”and the wonderful response will be “I am not being…how you say? fart wipe?”

My dads lack of English has never stopped him from making friends. In fact there is little that can. He is tenacious. Ambitious. Bold. Brave. But most importantly he isn’t afraid of making a tit of himself.

When I was ten years old we had these family friends. The Bennetts. Double N. Double T. They had two children. Rachel and Robert. They were very British.

One time, we went out for dinner with The Bennetts. They came to our house first for an aperitif (ours was a very cultured household) and we then drove to the restaurant together.

Robert, who was in my class and also fancied me incidentally, decided he wanted to drive with us. He happily squeezed into the backseat between me and my sister.

 

My dad, sitting in the drivers seat, looked over at us and saw Robert sitting in the back like a king.

 

This seemed to remind him of something…

 

He looked over at me and whispered in German.

I couldn’t believe my luck. My dad had asked me to translate a word into English. It’s like my whole life had been leading down to this. A deliciously perfect opportunity for mischief arose.

 

I thought for a moment…

And then answered confidently…

 

 

 

 

 

My dad nodded happily. And waved over The Bennetts who were busy getting into their own car. Thinking my dad wanted to confirm directions to the restaurant, they waddled over to us.

 

My dad rolled down the car window and pointing at Robert in the backseat said:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The whole world stood still for about a minute and then we children let out the loudest shrieks of laughter.

 

 

 

We couldn’t stop laughing.

I think I heard Mr Bennetts jaw hit the ground. The Bennetts were very nice about it of course and true to their British form laughed politely. My dad drove away happily thinking he’d made the joke of the century.

I think he wanted to say something like ‘your son is the rooster among the hens’

So yeah. That was my dad.