for foreigners and their legal representatives...

nce upon a time a foreign prince went to live in a faraway land. Where, in 2008, a Great Decree was issued stating that all foreigners were entitled to free Slovene language lessons.

Suddenly, there was a leaflet in the Ptuj Upravna Enota, that they might chance across. 

No big list of the foreigners, so important to the UE at other times, was used to alert them about this exciting development.

The leaflet did not say anything about Slovene lessons. Instead it was about učenje slovenskega jezika.

Teachers are smart. And famous for their long holidays.

The UE didn't know anything about the language lessons though. Following a long-held tradition in Slovenia, it sent the prince to a different office.

This was at the People's University of Ptuj (LUP) where the teaching was thought to happen.

LUP asked the prince, in Slovene, which language he spoke. Was it Italian, Hungarian, or Serbo-Croat?

"English," said the prince, when it was established he could only speak the language 59% of Slovenia speaks as an additional language.

Slovenians being rather good at other languages, for some reason.

But not Albanian, as those people do not have any money.

said LUP.

"You can only have Slovene lessons if you speak
Italian, Hungarian, or Serbo-Croat."

What about the Great Decree?

The administrator shrugged. As the Slovenians often do when reality and bureaucratic reality don't match.

And the prince went away.

ears passed. The prince's courtiers came and went. In every hour, month, or decade, the average number of minutes they spent practising his Slovene was 0. 

And now, dear Reader, get ready to extrapolate this to all of Slovenia.

Let's calculate how long you all spent teaching Slovene to foreigners. First, think about yourself. Then all the people you know.

The larger the sample the more reliable your fix on this important number, whose existence does not correlate with the emotional needs of anti-foreigner types of Slovenian.

By using this real number and the population count of Slovenia or some town, you can estimate the total minutes spent teaching Slovene.

I think it must be agreed you are a rather introverted culture.

nd then in 2020, interest in teaching Slovene to foreigners was again professed by the royal families of Slovenia. This time they professed it in English. Web page and everything.

This time the prince went to the ZRSZ - the employment service. Experts now believed the language was something to do with employability. Specifically, as an excuse to fine foreigners who can't do it, as well as their employers.





Fortunately the prince didn't need a job.

As he was in the Slovenians' "British" category. 

He explained to the ZRSZ man his previous problem with not knowing Italian, Hungarian or Serbo-Croat and how this didn't fit the needs of the people's palace of education.

The Ptuj ZRSZ were sure this would not happen again, and paid the Upravna Enota about 35 euros for his enrolment.

Although the UE still did not know anything about any language lessons and did not really create anything useful to the other three parties: LUP, the ZRSZ, and the mixture of wrong and right type of students.

The prince went away to wait for the next class cycle, some two or three months away.

As the big day approached, the prince was very excited about finally starting his real Slovene course, 15 years after arriving in the Slovene lands. 

Finally, he thought, it would be a proper teacher, with a proper platform, and not some aggressive drunk guy in a noisy bar who doesn't know his imenovalnik from his samostalnik shouting in his face about pivo and vžigalnik.

]

Finally, the big day arrived. In the LUP classroom the prince was amazed to find himself surrounded by non-western-European maidens. 

The teacher began chuntering away in Slovene at the usual speed. This was incomprehensible to the prince. 

Evidently this was not actual teaching content, but some kind of administrative announcement. The class remained silent as pens and pads were handed round and the announcement continued. 

A strange feeling began to sink in. Should he let this woman carry on wasting her breath, and wait patiently for the educational bit to begin?

A couple of other people were also starting to twist in their seats, looking round, perhaps for hidden cameras, or confirmation they were taking part in some kind of psychology experiment.

The atmosphere grew odder and odder as the announcement went on longer and longer, while the assembled maidens returned blank stares.

he prince decided to cut the atmosphere, which is frequently dense in Ptuj. Raising his sword, he asked, in English,

"Please Miss, how come you are teaching us in a language you haven't taught us yet?"

Miss stood there, apparently in shock. Then a couple of the maidens, who looked a bit different to the others, perked up. Emboldened by the brave prince, they snapped out of the crowd effect.

It became clear they had also been sent by the ZRSZ. It became clear they, too, were expecting English to be the base language. Whatever it was about, they hadn't understood a word Miss had said. 

Miss wasn't having any of this, and asked if there was anyone else threatening similar disturbances in class; but there were only three: the English prince, a Ukrainian princess, and a Turkish one.

All the others were Albanian. Who had already had 60 hours of Slovene, allegedly. The prince heard no evidence of this. 

 Some time afterwards, an expert in Slovenian bureaucracy explained they were just there to get a certificate saying they could do Slovene, not to actually learn it.

This in turn would prove that LUP and the ZRSZ were doing what the Decree of 2008 proposes.

After 20 minutes the entire class was dismissed because they had got their pens and pads and this was the first lesson, bringing the Albanian ladies' supposed total to 60 hours and 20 minutes. 

The three non-Albanian troublemakers were told they were not viable, and not to come back as the university was very busy.

Go to the other office, said LUP, putting their faith in the one that had sent them the wrong, English-speaking, type of pupils.

For as we have seen, children, genuinely learning Slovene for free is entirely the responsibility of someone else.

Before returning to the ZRSZ, for the benefit of its lawyers the prince prepared a decree of his own.







At the ZRSZ, the prince explained his problem of not being an Albanian woman.

Faced with being sued for discrimination, and possibly with some kind of racket being exposed, LUP and the ZSRZ explored blaming each other and the prince.

But eventually they agreed the prince should return to the People's University, where everything would be arranged especially for him. 

hat a nuisance! "Who does this prince think he is?" the Slovenians murmured. 

For the first time in its history, LUP were faced with someone who didn't care about the certficate, but just wanted to be taught Slovene.

"Why doesn't he understand?" they moaned, meaning understand they had no facilities or training for teaching Slovene, only for issuing course certificates, and invoicing.

"Why can't he just learn it," they complained, meaning without bothering people who - like them and everyone they knew - had spent an average of 0 minutes teaching Slovene to the two different kinds of foreigners.

First there's the forever poor, underclass type of foreigner who just needs a certificate to go and work in Boxmark or somewhere.

They don't really need to know much Slovene, keeping them away from starting businesses which might propel them upwards in Slovenian society.

Slovenia has other kinds of certificates too.

]

And the other type of foreigner is like our prince. According to Slovenian folklore this type is endlessly rich due to his former Empire, with no need of employment, health insurance, or welfare benefits.

And someone whom Slovenians can tap for a free English practice by pretending he is the most interesting person they have ever met - even though he is.

Finally the prince learned there are no specific qualifications needed to teach Slovene. Encouraging this is unpopular as it would ruin everything.

o you will not be surprised how this fairytale ends. 

For, dear reader, what if this august teaching institution had no English speaking linguist, but instead seconded a general adult education instructor of computer illiterates to this odd job?

What if this non-linguist soon admitted he had never taught Slovene before? That you were the first? That he had no training?

What if he had no Slovene textbook, but offered only a photocopy of this old one, with all the answers filled in?

What if, for all its throughput of Albanian ladies, there was no Slovene curriculum or plan, except to dump the student in front of a screen, since there was no time allocated for teaching in the nearly-retired non-linguist first-timer's schedule?

What if there was no evidence of any Slovene-speaking Albanians, English, or pupils of other nationalities, except for receipts?

What if there was no real motivation to teach Slovene, or expectation that students would succeed at all?

I hope all of this will be helpful in legal missions on behalf of less-than-Slovenian clients.

The size of the non-Slovenophone community is the only statistic Slovenia cannot bring itself to create.

It is a group not supposed to exist - because it is not a success story, which is what Slovenian statistics are for. See pages e and f of the prince's decree for more details.





Perhaps the most surprising thing is this group is not a group.

How much compensation should this group receive? For discrimination by the law, treaty violation, marginalision, fake teaching plans, and economic damage from mass disobedience of the "Decree on the Integration of Aliens" (Uredba o integraciji tujcev (Uradni list RS, št. 65/08, 86/10, 50/11 – ZTuj-2 in 70/12) since 15 July 2008, under Article 3(2) and, in the case of post-Brexit Brits, Article 3(1). And ZJRS 13.

The answer is nothing. Because they are foreigners.





Slovenia will find an excuse. Only the most unslovenian lawyer in the whole wide world would take the wannabe pupils' case to the end in Slovenia.

As is required before it can go to the European Court, where all the judges will roll their eyes and Slovenia will lose as usual.






Teaching Slovene is the worst job in the world - as everyone knows except those profiting from lawfare against not being Slovenian.

Are you affected by, or representing victims of language apartheid? Do you support a class action, perhaps as a facet in your existing case?

You can let me know by clicking on my helmet. 

What happened to the prince? Locked in a tower, he became available as a leading expert witness on Slovenian social exclusion and legal hypocrisy.

The moral of this story?



When dealing with incompetent bullshitting fuckwits, don't sign the form that allows the Slovenians to transfer tens of thousands of euros of taxpayers' money to each other, for appearing on paper to be teaching their own language, and pretending to have a method with which to do this.

Whereas they really had no intention of teaching this thing of which they had been sufficiently proud to start their own country.

As an avid reader of Slovenske Novice, the prince could see them coming from miles away.

He didn't sign. So in theory LUP didn't get the treasure.

Only the Upravna Enota gained, achieving 35 euros from a different government department, for...?