Struth. I had no idea such misapprehensions were being laboured under. I thought Yorkshire Puddings were simply unheard of, not misunderstood.
…well, I, erm…that’s really very sweet of you…
Yes, it does, but it’s an adjective, not a verb. See here.
Fahk in Thai means “squash” or “pumpkin” but sounds an awfully like “fuck.” Pronounce the English word “door” a certain way and you have a vulgar Thai slang for a penis.
Oh yeah, and the name “Jim.” Pronounce it with the right tone and length, and it’s a regional vulgar slang for a vagina. Every Jim I knew in Thailand had to be careful.
Pissed: British English for drunk. Pissed off is angry.
Aha, that’s what we in the UK would probably call a pinafore dress.
As to the sweater/jumper distinction, no, both are used interchangeably. If anything, a jumper is more likely to be an item of knitwear and a sweater is more likely to be a crew-neck sweat shirt or thinner piece of knitwear. But that’s not really a distinction I would make.
OB
In Cologne, you can order a “halve hahn” (half a rooster), but won’t get anything chicken related. It is the local name for a slice of rye bread with cheese and onions.
What the Brits call an “anorak” is a “windbreaker” or “parka” (which is bigger and heavier, like the ones Eskimos wear) in the US. And bib overalls like the ones farmers wear are also called “biballs” (this one threw me the first time I heard it, but was instantly clear when I saw it in print).
Overalls are something a grease-monkey mechanic might wear, I think.
Never heard this one. Is it from *barracks *or the name of our former president? 
Walking through Hungary enough, you might encounter the word “legjobb” quite commonly in print. While it may bare resemblance to some misspelled niche sexual practice, it merely means “the best.” (And it’s not pronounced anything like “legjob” would be.)
Kuki in Hungarian sounds a bit like English “cookie” in a Hungarian accent, but is a cute word for “penis,” maybe something like “weenie.”
In Polish, you’ll hear what sounds like “bitch” peppered fairly commonly in conversation. It is merely the infinitive form of “to be,” być.
Also, good to know is that “an anorak” can refer to something akin to a “nerd” or maybe better a “geek”: people obsessive about every little detail of their chosen subject of interest.
There you go - pudding.
In England it’s (I think) a dense steamed cake (often) studded with dried fruit, served warm with vanilla or chocolate cream.
In the US it’s an amorphous milk, egg and sugar concoction thickened with cornstarch and cooked on the stovetop.
Edit - done in by the next page…
In Russian, the word is botanik, “botanist.” I believe there was a failed attempt to adapt The Big Bang Theory for Russian TV under the title Botaniki (“Nerds”).
The US typically calls a small baby bed on rockers a cradle.
Is the song “Rockabye baby…the cradle will rock” familiar in the UK?
I’d call that a cradle, as in Rock-a-bye, baby, in the tree top…
All of the cribs I’ve seen stand on spindly legs, and might have sides you can lower to take the baby out (or you can just lift him/her out).
The big thing on the floor you put the baby into when he/she is big enough is called a playpen.
What the British call a “pram” (“perambulator”) can be either a stroller (a little seat on wheels for a baby) or a buggy (a little bed on wheels with a foldable hood).
A “dummy” in the UK is what I’d call a “pacifier” in the US (for a baby to suck on, like Maggie Simpson). A dummy is (among other things) what I’d call a department store mannequin.
A “cot” is the kind of foldable bed you might sleep on at summer camp or in the service, or keep at home for unexpected guests.
This doesn’t help reduce confusion:
Growing up my closest association with tamales aside from the candy was the Alka-Seltzer (or was it Pepto Bismol?) ad where a couple is traveling in a car and you hear a woman’s voice say 'Look, Harvey! Mexican ta-mails!"
It took me a long time to figure out what was meant by “taking the piss.” Definitely not the same as “taking a piss.”
That reminds me, between Polish and Russian (and other Slavic languages) there’s a number of these. Like стул (pronounced like “stool”) in Russian means “chair” and in Polish, stól means “table”’ (and now I just realized that in English, it’s yet another piece of furniture.) Or dywan in Polish means “rug.” In Russian (and English), the similar sounding word диван means “sofa.”
What’s kind of fun for a language nerd like me is that some of the Slavic languages have descriptive names for the months, instead of following the Latinate names. So it can get confusing with cognates that refer to different months. For example, in Polish kwiecień (derived from the word for flowers and blooming) is April, but in Czech, kviecień is May. Listopad (meaning something like “falling of the leaves”) is November in Polish, but the same exact word is October in Croatian. Lipiec is July in Polish, but lipanj is June in Croatian (both words from lipa meaning “linden tree.”)’
OK, that last paragraph is probably only interesting to me, but I grew up speaking Polish, and it was always interesting traveling through the other Slavic countries and getting tripped up by false friends. There’s a lot more of them, but those are the first that come to mind. Oh, yeah, and godina meaning “year” in Croatian, but the similar word godzina meaning “hour” in Polish.
I was greatly amused to learn that “fuck all” is the British equivalent of “nada,” “zilch,” “gornish,” “nichts.”
“Hey, Victor. What have you done on that project so far?”
“Fuck all.”
Or *rodina *meaning “motherland” in Russian and “family” in Czech.
Same with Polish rodzina is “family.” In Polish “motherland” would be ojczyzna, which is actually more accurately “fatherland,” as it comes from the word for “father.”