On the website www.spitzenwitze.de there’s a section on jokes about the old GDR, mostly revolving around the things we used to hear about East Germany, e.g. it was an authoritarian state, that everyday consumer products taken for granted in the West were often very difficult to get, and so on. But I don’t get the following joke at all, even though I’m reasonably sure I understand all the words:
Why is this particularly funny? It can’t be simply because sugar or chocolate was commonly in short supply, because if so, then why single out Saxony?
Other than that there seem generally to be a lot of jokes about Saxony/Saxons on these German joke websites.
I think it might be a joke about Saxon pronunciation/dialect (which IIRC tends to be the go-to “accent to mock”). The shopkeeper thinks he hears “rumgucken” (=“herumgucken”, look around) and says the equivalent of “Be my guest, no pressure/obligation”. Saxony formed a large part of the DDR, which added an extra layer to other people’s disdain for the DDR; Walter Ulbricht and a substantial proportion of other DDR party leaders were Saxons, too, so there may be a hidden political dig.
Or it could be about shortage - of course there’d be no pressure to buy what’s never in the shop anyway.
Like Pitchmeister said the pun isn’t depending on the Saxon dialect. I have read it in West German joke collections too.
The Saxon dialect lends itself to real life misunderstandings. Some years ago there was a court case in Stuttgart: a lady who had moved from Saxony to Swabia sued a travel agency because she asked for a plane booking to Porto, and they sold her a ticket to Bordeaux (and she did not notice the error in time).
The following could involve British misconceptions on my part; but it’s intriguing to see these two regions – Saxony; and Swabia (in south-west Germany) both mentioned. I’ve gathered that in Germany, there is long-standing cliché / humorous libel stuff about both those regions: supposedly inhabited by dim-witted, benighted rustics with hard-to-understand dialect / accents !
I’ve long felt fond of the Saxons – I gather that there’s another venerable cliché / fun-poking thing, to the effect that they’re peaceable souls, very unlike the belligerent image which Germany has tended to have in other nations’ eyes. Have read that in World War I, the British were usually glad when they found that there were Saxon troops opposite them on the other side of the front line: the Saxons could generally be relied on to do a “live-and-let-live” number, doing as little harm as possible ! And the last King of Saxony (abdicated 1918) seems to have been a grand fellow: he had no use for his imperial overlord Kaiser Wilhelm II, whom he regarded as a dangerous lunatic; he frequently took the piss out of the Kaiser – to his face – in broad Saxon dialect.
At least that was in the right direction, unlike this guy: U.S. dentist Edward Gamson thought he’d bought tickets from London’s Gatwick Airport to Granada, Spain, for himself and his partner via a British Airways booking agent, but only realized he was actually headed to Grenada in the Caribbean once on board
It doesn’t work in English because mir and mich both mean ‘me’:
A Bavarian girl says ‘Kiss me, Kasimir!’
Kasimer says, ‘Not “me”, me!’
The Bavarian girl says, ‘Kiss me, Kasime!’
It was explained that Bavarians use mir (‘to me’) when they should use mich (‘me’), and that is the basis of the joke.
We had a Japanese visitor to the office back in the very early 90’s’- who wanted to arrange a side trip to Warsaw from London. Our secretary confounded him by giving him a train ticket.
“I can get a train to Warsaw” he politely asked.
“Oh, sorry love, I thought you said Walsall” she replied.
Walsall is on the outskirts of Birmingham, England.
We had a Japanese visitor to the office back in the very early 90’s’- who wanted to arrange a side trip to Warsaw from London. Our secretary confounded him by giving him a train ticket.
“I can get a train to Warsaw” he politely asked.
“Oh, sorry love, I thought you said Walsall” she replied.
Walsall is on the outskirts of Birmingham, England.
This is a funny thread, because I remember the “Rumkugeln” joke from my childhood in the seventies, and indeed it was told back then in the Saxon dialect though the punch line didn’t rely on it. Somehow, Saxon was regarded very funny to our Wessi ears, and it was the generic accent we associated with the DDR. I instantly remembered two Saxon jokes who DID play on the accent from those times, and I leave it as a task for the audience to guess their meaning (of course I’m willing to explain them, but let’s first see if anybody can guess it :D):
Build a sentence with “Gänsefleisch”: "East German border officer: “Gänsefleisch mal den Kofferrraum uffmache?”.
(in a time when there were some unrests in Angola) A citizen of the DDR was asked: “Was halten sie eigentlich von Angola?” Answer: “Angola könnt ich mich tottrinken.”
Close, very close, bravo. It’s this: the hard “k” sound in German is often pronounced with a soft “g” sound in the Saxon dialect, so “Angola” in Saxon sounds like “An Cola”, so the sentence can be read as “An Cola könnt ich mich tottrinken.” which means “I could drink myself to death with Cola” = “I like it very much”. An additional layer of the joke is the fact that Cola drinks were a scarcity in East Germany, and Coca-Cola was of course not available there as an icon of Western commercial imperialism or some such.
I know, it doesn’t sound funny, because it’s never funny when a joke has to be explained, but I laughed way back then.
On the subject of English / Polish misunderstandings:
A dear late uncle of mine spent much of World War 2, in Glasgow – he was English, and had to laboriously learn the Glaswegian adaptation of his native tongue. He learnt the words of a local song, commemorating the departure of the local 42nd Regiment for the Crimean War. Decades later, back in England, he would try to render (he was tone-deaf, poor guy) this song, to us of the next generation. It went, approximately:
“Wha’ saw the Forty-Second,
Wha’ saw them gang awa’ ?
Some o’ them, had boots and stockings,
Some o’ then had nane at a’ –
Marching doon the Broomielaw,
Marching tae the Roosian war…”
Some of us were a bit unkind (he was a lovely old guy, but he did tend to go on and on and on) – and wilfully misunderstood: "Uncle, is this a Polish song, translated into sort-of English? I mean – “Warsaw this, Warsaw that…”?
Are you sure you’re not misremembering? I’ve only ever heard this joke told with a Berliner as the girl. I’m not aware of any conflation between the accusative and dative first-person pronouns in Bavarian. (In that dialect, the pronouns are mi and mia, respectively.)