Joys of being lost in translation

SO farewell then Yerevan, and apologies to sensitive newspaper readers and television viewers at home who might have been exposed to disturbing glimpses of the milky white thighs of the travelling Irish press corps over the past 48 hours.

Joys of being lost in translation

Blame the intense heat which prevailed during our brief visit to the baking Armenian capital and just be grateful that you didn’t have to see as much of our pale flesh as the put-upon locals did.

And, no, I don’t mean it that way, missus, although, come to think of it, things could have been a whole lot worse for all concerned had we taken literally the sign which greeted us at immigration control upon arrival in the Yerevan. “When presenting passport, please remove cover and everything else,” it advised.

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