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What a fucking day!
Imagine having to explain fucking sliding doors and fucking ceiling track hoist systems to an Iraqi interpreter, then waiting while he translated the fucker into Arabic, then waiting while the fucking Iraqis mulled over the aformentioned fucking stuff, then getting their fucking replies translated into fucking English.
Iraqi: "Habalabalabala"
Translator: "Is it possible?"
Me: "No."
Translator: "Habalabalabala"
Iraqis: "Habalabalabala"
Translator: "Is it possible?"
Me: "It's not possible"
Translator: "Habalabalabala"
Iraqis: "Habalabalabala"
Translator: "It is not possible?"
Me: "LOOK! IT'S NOT FUCKING POSSIBLE FOR FUCK'S FUCKING SAKE. IT - IS - NOT - FUCKING - POSSIBLE!!!"
Translator: "Habalabalabala"
Iraqis: "Habalabalabala"
Translator: "It is possible is it not?"
Me: "Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrggghhhh!!!!!"
FOUR fucking hours of that fucker. I could fucking scream.
What's up with that fucking language, anyway?
Why do they sound so fucking angry all the time?
Here's me, sitting there expecting to get my fucking bollocks chewed because they can't have their fucking sliding doors and a fucking ceiling track, when what the fuckers are actually saying is 'thankyou very much' and wishing all kinds of fucking peace on me, my fucking family.... the fucking dog etc.
Nice fucking people, though, especially the translator dude. He kept fucking shouting at me then apologising, saying "I'm not shouting, they shout - I translate, okay?"
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