I am sitting in the Bulldog Pub, sipping my drink, and browsing through Croatian newspapers on offer. When I put them aside and look toward the television screen that dominates the pub, I see that a soccer match is on. To figure out who is playing, I look for the score box in one of the corners. “ASL 1-0 LIV,” it says. “The losing team must be Liverpool,” I realize, “but what’s the winning one?” A moment later, the answer pops up in my mind: “Arsenal!” And I have hard time containing my laughter. “ARS” would not do, and especially not in Britain. It would be just like “ASS” in the States. A swearword, that is. It takes me a while to calm down, but I must not look toward the score box, for “ASL” makes me laugh every time I look at it. By the time I leave the pub, Arsenal leads with two goals to Liverpool’s none. “Well done, ARS,” I mumble to myself when I reach the street. “Sorry, ASL!”

Addendum (March 15, 2014)

As I am sipping my drink in the Carling Pub, I look toward the television screen that dominates the pub. As usual, a soccer match is on. To figure out who is playing, I look for the score box in one of the corners. “BAY 0-0 ARS,” it says. “The first team must be Bayern,” I realize, “and the television company must be German.” “ASL” would be meaningless there, to be sure. Once again, I have hard time containing laughter. “Well done, ARS,” I mumble to myself. And no apologies this time around.