Welsh Road Signs Make You Crash!!!!!!

[Furryanimal]

Stefan Rhys Wales Online




My English friend was driving me home once when, out of the gloom, a sign appeared at the roadside ahead. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turned white, he leaned forward slowly and his eyes narrowed in intense concentration. "That sign," he whispered. "I can't read it. It's in some other language. I think it's telling me to 'Drive carefu-'..."

That's the last thing I remember before we both woke up in hospital beds, two more victims of Welsh road signs. As the evening went on, more people just like us kept being wheeled in, each one a victim of cruel policies designed to force Welsh down our throats.

Fortunately, I made a full recovery and was even able to get a job as a journalist, where I now read reports from court case after court case of drivers hurtling off roads as they try and fail to spot English words in an ocean of word soup nonsense on our signs. It's got to the point now where I refuse to publish these stories because I'm so bored of them. So if you're wondering why you've never heard of someone crashing their car because a Welsh road sign confused them, it's because I'm hiding it from you and not because it has Literally. Never. Happened.

But still I can't escape the carnage and disruption caused by these Welsh signs. I sit for hours in train stations waiting to pick up friends who ring me up long after their train has been and gone, screaming: "I'm still on the train! How the f*** was I supposed to know that Caerdydd is Cardiff??" And every year, when it comes to insuring my car, I have to take tests to prove I know that "Merthyr Tydfil" means "Merthyr Tudful".

Don't feel sorry for me. I know you're all suffering too. We've all lost someone to a Welsh road sign, which are actually all perfectly capable of appearing in English and only change to Welsh when the English drive past.





Whole article

www.walesonline.co.uk/news/news-opinion/...-road-signs-14006685

 

[JustDave]

I remember many years ago studying a map and feeling sorry for myself in Montreal. The freeway was a maze of exit ramps, exchange ramps, with words that I did not understand. The toll booth antendents refused to address my queries in English, but would blather on in French, leaving me more confused than ever. How would I ever find my way back to the US? A French Canadian approached me sensing that I was dazed and confused while feeling sorry for myself at a gas station. I told him I needed to find my way to the nearest border crossing. He must have been one of a kind. He brightly said, "Follow me. I show you where to get off the Freeway!" He went darting frantically in and out of lanes as we followed breaking who knows how many speed laws and safety regulations. After several miles he was hanging half out his window gesturing to an up coming exit, the signs of which meant nothing to me. I swerved onto the exit ramp while we waved goodbye to each other and a few miles later I was safely at a border crossing into New Hampshire and on my way to Maine. I've never gone back to Quebec. Luckily, I don't need to go there. But British Columbia? Now that's my kind of place. Can't say nothing but good about it. I've been there more times than I can count, and have always been welcomed.