And Boom Goes the Dynamite: Why I Hate Bonfire 'Night'

Warning:  What I say, I say in love and jest.  Get bent if you don't like it.

First and foremost, let me press this upon you:  Bonfire Night is NOT, contrary to its name, a single night.  It is a months-long nightmare for a hyperacusic like me.  Let me share my hell with you.

Me

So, you've seen Bridget Jones's Diary.  You know she went to Lewisham to report from the fire station on Bonfire Night and then slid down that fireman's pole.  But did you bother googling what Bonfire Night is?  No, because you're a lazy shit, am I right?  Oh but wait, you've also seen V for Vendetta, right?  Yeah.  And you think you're so cute and so clever and so British when you notice it's 5 November and you start chanting about the Gundpowder Plot.  (Newsflash:  Ain't nothin' cute, clever, or particularly British about that.  Hollywood gotcha, motherfucker.  So cut it out.)

America, you're ridiculous

Well guess what!  5 November/Guy Fawkes Day = Bonfire Night.  Except it's not always on 5 November.  The British are big into 'oh, this holiday's on a weekday?--let's shove it to a weekend and do something about it then'.  But there's no consistency since it's technically not a holiday.  So anybody can celebrate Bonfire Night aaaany fucking time they fucking please.

I've lived here for years and I've now realised Bonfire Night basically starts in September and goes through January.  Why?  Because you can buy massive bloody fireworks any time you want in this country and annoy the living piss out of your neighbours--it's way more fun in the darker month, I am left to conclude.  Where I'm from fireworks sales are extremely prohibitive.  They are only sold for a tiny window before 4 July and at that, the most powerful fireworks on sale are positively foetal compared to what my lovely British neighbours set off.

These geniuses not only don't know where they live ('basinstoke')
but they've also used the wrong aspect ratio

So, the folks in this video are seriously just dicking around with major explosives in their back yard(/garden).  At home.  With close neighbours.  But understand this--they're gonna do this every other week or so for months and months and so will about a quarter of every shitting neighbourhood in the country.  So, on any given autumn or winter night in Britain you probably won't be able to hear your television.  I know, poor me.  But I'm severely hyperacusic, so a single unexpected firework makes me feel like I'm dying.  My rage is medically justifiable.  (Also, if you have a pet, GOOD LUCK.  I have a cat.  With ears.  And claws.)

Britain, seriously--America loooooves explosives.  (Don't get me started.)  But we get it out of our system all at once in July.  Plus, what's so great about standing outside at night in the cold?  Y'all are obsessed with it.  Get it together, GB.  Anyone got earplug recommendations?

Warning:  What I say, I say in love and jest.  Get bent if you don't like it.

6th, Sixth, S-I-X-T-H: England, ARE YOU LISTENING?

Warning:  What I say, I say in love and jest.  Get bent if you don't like it.
So, I promised in this edition of listen-to-an-American-bitch my blog that I'd tackle that thorny issue . . . correct the English when they can't properly speak their own language.  That's hella awkward, so let's get right to it.  

I first noticed this a while back when I was watching a BBC series on the history of British kings.  The presenter of the programme continuously referred to Henry VI (Henry the Sixth) as Henry the Sixh.  That's not a typo.  SIXH.  I thought, maybe this woman has a speech impediment.  She kept saying sixh.  Like, the -th sound is gone and there's just a bit of an aspirated H at the end of six.  Sixh.  What is that?

But lo, there was the presenter, interviewing someone who ALSO says SIXH.  They're not related; they're not from the same place; there's no reason they should both have the speech impediment.  

The Dr Janina Ramirez goes 'SIXH'; so does her friend

So, that was that and I forgot about it quickly enough.  Some months later, I overheard someone in a shop, from yet another part of England, using the adjective 'sixh'.  Except . . . she meant 'sixth'.  WHY, ENGLAND, WHYYYY?!

The more and more I paid attention to the way people talked, the more I realised everyone here says 'sixh' instead of 'sixth'.  Well, that's not strictly true.  I have heard a few interesting accidents that render it something more like 'sith' rather than 'sixh' or the actual word 'sixth'.

Now, let me point to that most English of English institutions:  the Oxford English Dictionary.  Here is what they say about this ordinal:  

s - i - x - th

IPA	Sounds like
s	s	as in see
ɪ	i	as in pit, hill
ks	x	as in oxen
θ	th	as in thin, bath

Okay, English-friends.  Take a moment to soak that in.  Take another moment to say 'sixth' out loud.  What have you said?  If you've not said as the bloody OED has said it . . . I got news for you.  YOU'RE SAYING IT WRONG. 

And if you think that's too formal of a parameter to be followed in casual conversation, look what the BBC says:  it's INCORRECT.  (To be fair, they render it as 'sikth', which is basically the same as what I'm arguing.)

Now, if someone wants to get fussy and tell me I'm too prescriptivist and that English is a language that's meant to be experimented with, etc etc, then you can fuck the fuck off as far as I'm concerned.  'Cause, if you've actually paid attention to the way I write you'd know I pay very little heed to the supposed rules of proper English.  BUT THERE IS NOT A QUESTION WHEN IT COMES TO HOW TO SAY 'SIXTH'.  Okay?  It's pretty straightforward.  Get on it, England, AND SORT THIS OUT.

Yeah?  

Yeah.

So, next time, I'll lament the pitiful state of British bathrooms.  Seriously, why do they suck so bad?  You people ran an empire but you can't make a bathroom worth a shit.  (SWIDT?)Warning:  What I say, I say in love and jest.  Get bent if you don't like it.