I am in a pregnancy clinic in England. From the neighboring office comes out a doctor uncle in a white coat, approaching me.
The Fuck? He asks gently.
I answer in pure English with elements of Oxford accent.
So Miss Fuck? - Interested again uncle with a smiling little-enot-spraying.
– Wow... – For the sake of clarity, I go to the accent of the county of Sussex, considering what exactly the semantic semi-tones of “Huaja” the gentleman hints on. Per this is a way to have a polite conversation about the causal and consequential links that led to my pregnancy 8 months ago. Or this uncle is my compatriot who is interested in the current geopolitical situation in my homeland. Or is it the figure of the label, which is worth translating as "Grace this year didn’t fly at all, Miss, you don’t find it?" Or...
by Hui-san? No matter what, my uncle respected me.
Here comes my husband and the doctor goes to him:
Oh Oh! Mr Hook?
The husband quickly cuts the branches of his genealogy tree. He doesn’t find there concise spots and, in any case, checks the width.
by Hui-san? My uncle respected him too.
At the last evil appeal of the doctor to our conscience, the aunt of the receptionist finally resorted. She informs the gathered that the patient Hussein (Huisan) cancelled his visit today – very strongly sorry, the next, plyiz.