Long ago (so I have forgotten the precise details) I read one of those books by a British soldier who escaped from a German prisoner-of-war camp in the second world war. He had managed to pinch a German uniform and was making his way across the Fatherland disguised as an Oberleutnant or something. Suddenly he was confronted by a company of the victorious, advancing British troops. How could he instantly convey to them that he was English, and so avoid being shot? He had a brainwave. He shouted out the filthiest English swear-words he could think of. The soldiers lowered their rifles: few Germans would know those words, and the accent was right.
Supposing our escaper had had a tender Christian conscience, and had not wanted to besmirch his lips with scatology. He could have shouted out some English proverbs — for proverbs are the shibboleths of a nation, distillations of its peculiar character and wisdom.
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