A funny story about how good pronunciation may be bad for you. I was on vacation in Spain (Malaga) two years ago. I'm a passionate cyclist - a 'roadie', that is I ride a road bike - or a racing bike - the one with funny curved handlbars. So, on one fine day I take my bike, leave the town and head north, to the mountains. After a while I notice to my horror that I'm on a motorway: the road where bikes are prohibited ('bicicleta prohibita'). I think to myself 'I'll take the next exit back to the town'. And immediately a police car overtakes me with a siren and pulls over in front of me. Two big Spanish policemen come out of the car and walk straight to me. A couple of words on my Spanish though: I can barely say anything in Spanish apart from a couple of simple everyday phrases. But I'm kind of a pronunciation buff: I can quite easlily pick up and imitate accents (not ideally of course but it just come naturally to me). So I greet them in my best Spanish ('Buenos días '). They start talk