Recent mixtures of English into everyday use in other languages evoke mixed reactions, from amusement through annoyance to alarm. It's important to recognize that this sort of thing has been going on for a long time — probably just as about as long as there have been languages to mix. And it's likely that reactions towards the negative end of the spectrum have also been around for many thousands of years.
Over the next few weeks, I'll post a few older examples. But I'll start with a relatively recent instance: the role of French in the speech of educated Russians of the 18th and 19th centuries.
According to Vernon Hall, "Dostoevsky's Use of French as a Symbolic Device in The Brothers Karamazov", Comparative Literature Studies 2(2): 171-174, 1965:
In most Russian novels of the nineteenth century, characters of the educated classes mix a good deal of French in with their mother tongue. This may be rightly considered a form of realism since it merely reflects the linguistic practices of the time. At first glance The Brothers Karamazov seems conventional enough in this regard. Yet a closer look reveals that the use or non-use of the French language by various characters in this novel, while it never violates the principle of social realism, has a much deeper significance. Its realistic function is small; its symbolic function is great.
Dostoevsky employs French in a most deliberate way. The amount of French spoken by each major character is an important index to the degree of his corruption and fits in perfectly with what is now generally recognized as the moral and symbolical structure of the novel.
I don't recall any explicit meta-linguistic peeving about admixtures of French in Dostoevsky's work, though it won't surprise me if readers are able to supply some examples. (As a technical term for such peeving, I like Jonathan Mayhew's suggestion of nurgling, stimulated by Dierk's discussion of 'Sprachnörgler' [language grumps] in German.)
[I should note that there's a systematic difference here, at least in principle, among several basically different phenomena: code-switching, cross-language vocabulary borrowing, flawed use of a language based on imperfect learning (or bad machine translation, or whatever), and various sorts of genuine language mixtures, such as pidgins and creoles. We should be careful not to treat the French of Dostoevsky's characters, or the English of German cubicle-dwellers, as if they were exactly the same sort of thing as the English of badly-translated signs in China; and both are different from genuinely new languages like Singlish.]