I love dialects. An Irishman in full cry, particularly under some drink, can be a pure joy, even though we may not understand half of what he’s saying; it’s a musical experience. A Glasgow man, as they call themselves, delivering a droll report on say, a soccer game, or a political issue, can actually have you leaning forward to catch the next piece of lilt. It’s truly wonderful stuff. Among Caribbean speakers, my favourites are Jamaican and Guyanese.
