English Recordings

If you go in a café for a nice drink and the staff is rude you can choose not to go back in this place. But what happens if the customers are impolite? A French Café has decided to reward polite customers and punish rude ones by asking different prices for the same coffee. If you read the menu board, ‘a coffee’ costs €7 whereas ‘a coffee, please’ costs a less expensive €4.50. Of course, there’s a cheaper option: ‘hello, can I have a coffee, please?’ will cost you only €1.40. Sometimes it pays to be polite and if you are rude you can always choose another café.

Next.
次の方.

May I see your passport, please? /
May I please see your passport?
パスポートを見せていただけますか。

Press four fingers on your right hand, please. /
Please press your four fingers on your right hand.
右手の４本の指を（スクリーンの上に）置いてください。　
（＊次に指紋を採る。まずは右手から。先に親指以外の4本の指紋を採り、その後親指の指紋を採り、右手が終わったら、左手も同様にする。）

Look at the camera, please. /
Please look at the camera.
カメラを見てください。

Here you are. Enjoy your stay.
どうぞ。よいご滞在を。

Hello, Please make a recording, speaking slowly (but not too slowly) in Italian, using the past, present, and future tenses. Thank you!

The evening arrived; the boys took their places. The master, in his cook's uniform, stationed himself at the copper; his pauper* assistants ranged themselves behind him; the gruel* was served out; and a long grace* was said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared; the boys whispered to each other, and winked at Oliver; while his next neighbours nudged him.
Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger* (…). He rose from the table; and advancing to the master, basin and spoon in hand, said, somewhat alarmed at his own temerity: "Please, sir, I want some more."
The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupefied astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds (…). The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the boys with fear*. "What!" said the master at length, in a faint voice. "Please, sir," replied Oliver, "I want some more." The master aimed a blow* at Oliver's head with the ladle (…).
The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said, "Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked for more!" There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance. "For more!" said Mr. Limbkins. "Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper* allotted by the dietary?" "He did, sir," replied Bumble. "That boy will be hung," said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. "I know that boy will be hung."
Nobody controverted the prophetic gentleman's opinion. An animated discussion took place. Oliver was ordered into instant confinement; and a bill was next morning pasted on the outside of the gate, offering a reward of five pounds to anybody who would take Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish. In other words, five pounds and Oliver Twist were offered to any man or woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or calling.
From Oliver Twist, (chapter two), by Charles Dickens,1838

a photograph
a painting
a cartoon
a comic strip
an advert
a book cover
a film still
a newspaper front page
a novel
it was drawn by
it was painted by
it was written by
it was taken by
it was made by
at the top
on the left
in the bottom left-hand corner
in the top left-hand corner
at the bottom
on the right
in the middle
in the top right-hand corner
in the bottom right-hand corner

To put the cat amongst the pigeons !
A bear hug !
A traffic jam !
To get up somebody’s nose !
Keep your hair on !
She thinks she’s the cat’s whiskers !
Two heads are better than one !
To eat and run !
Kristen kissed Kevin but kevin coughed and caught a cold.
Cross cooks count Christmas cake crumbs.
Henry the hamster hates hippos.
The white whale is wet.
Tim,the thin twin .
Short shirts and shorts.

bend binned
bent bint
cheque chick
deck dick
fen fin
get git
jest gist
leapt lipped
led lid
lest list
kecks kicks
kept kipped
meddle middle
messed mist
peg pig
set sit

“This is my locker.
I keep… all of my books in here
except for usually the next two or
three classes. And… I also keep
emergency food. Two different
kinds of candy. Dum Dums and
Twizzlers. If I can get to any more
Twizzlers... Twizzlers. I tend to get
hungry in the middle of the day.
So… I just come here, get a snack.
So right now I’m about to go to
Math. So I’m gonna grab my Math
stuff. I also keep clothes
in here.
That’s the bell! ”

“Hi! I’m Zack. This is my locker.
It’s pretty messy. It’s where I keep
all my books and some extra
clothes sometimes, in case I forget
a tie or a belt.
So this is what it looks like at
this moment. A jacket for when it
gets cold. A shirt. A shirt.
A couple… books. My English book.
Math book. A frisbee to play with.
Lots of cards. More clothes.
And… it’s pretty much it. I really
need to clean it.
But… and it’s not even everything
that’s in there. This would
normally go in there. This is my
bag. It’s filled with more books
and more things.
So… it’s pretty much it.”

It's time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does, "Ladies first !" and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not me, that it's not me, that it's not me.
Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it's not me.
It's Primrose Everdeen.
One time, when I was in a blind in a tree, waiting motionless for game to wander by, I dozed off and fell ten feet to the ground, landing on my back. It was as if the impact had knocked every wisp of air from my lungs, and I lay there struggling to inhale, to exhale, to do anything.
That's how I feel now, trying to remember how to breathe, unable to speak, totally stunned as the name bounces around the inside of my skull. (…)
There must have been some mistake. This can't be happening. Prim was one slip of paper in thousands ! Her chance of being chosen so remote that I'd not even bothered to worry about her. (…)
Somewhere far away, I can hear the crowd murmuring unhappily as they always do when a twelve-year-old gets chosen because no one thinks this is fair. And then I see her, the blood drained from her face, hands clenched in fists at her sides, walking with stiff, small steps up toward the stage, passing me, and I see the back of her blouse has become untucked and hangs out over her skirt. It's this detail, the untucked blouse forming a ducktail, that brings me back to myself.
"Prim !" The strangled cry comes out of my throat, and my muscles begin to move again. "Prim !" I don't need to shove through the crowd. The other kids make way immediately allowing me a straight path to the stage. I reach her just as she is about to mount the steps. With one sweep of my arm, I push her behind me.
"I volunteer ! " I gasp. " I volunteer as tribute !"
There's some confusion on the stage. District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades (…).
"Lovely ! " says Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…" she trails off, unsure of herself.
"What does it matter ? " says the mayor. He's looking at me with a pained expression on his face. He doesn't know me really, but there's a faint recognition there. (…) I am the girl (…) who five years ago stood huddled with her mother and sister, as he presented her, the oldest child, with a medal of valor. A medal for her father, vaporized in the mines. Does he remember that ? " What does it matter ? " he repeats gruffly. "Let her come forward."
Prim is screaming hysterically behind me. She's wrapped her skinny arms around me like a vice. "No, Katniss ! No ! You can't go !"
"Prim, let go," I say harshly, because this is upsetting me and I don't want to cry. When they televise the replay of the reapings tonight, everyone will make note of my tears, and I'll be marked as an easy target. A weakling. I will give no one that satisfaction. "Let go !"
I can feel someone pulling her from my back. I turn and see Gale has lifted Prim off the ground and she's thrashing in his arms. "Up you go, Catnip, "he says, in a voice he's fighting to keep steady, and then he carries Prim off toward my mother. I steel myself and climb the steps.
"Well, bravo !" gushes Effie Trinket. "That's the spirit of the Games !" She's pleased to finally have a district with a little action going on in it. "What's your name ? "
I swallow hard. "Katniss Everdeen," I say.
" I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we ? Come on, everybody ! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute ! " trills Effie Trinket.

The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins (2008)