Convoluted thinking

A translator friend called me recently: 'Can you fix some English for me? It's a company report.' In payment, he said he would buy me dinner, so I agreed. The report duly arrived, correct but slightly ungainly. I gave it a polish, following the principle that the best English is, by and large, the simplest.

My friend got back to me within the hour. 'This is no good,' he said sadly. 'Why not?' I replied. He gave me some examples. 'What's the matter with those?' I said. My friend's reply encapsulated the whole problem of English in Taiwan. 'We learn those words in first grade,' he said.

'If I make it more complicated, English and American businessmen won't understand it,' I said. 'The best words in the best order; that's what I'm giving you.'

'But it isn't for foreign businessmen, it's for Taiwanese,' he explained. 'The report will have Chinese on one page and English opposite.' I was astonished, but nevertheless began to understand.

'But anyone from Taiwan will simply read the Chinese,' I replied, confident I had played the trump card. 'Of course,' said my friend. 'But it's high class to have it there in English as well.'

I now saw that I should write, not so that anyone could understand, but to provide an air of superiority for the company's president and steering committee, all of whom would appear in glossy photographs in the report. 'Please put in some impressive words; ones that will make them feel important,' my friend pleaded.