Celebrate good times, f**k off...

Ah, celebrations. Those days of the year when people decide they will have a good old time, possibly get drunk and make an arse of themselves. Why am I talking about celebrations? Well, someone asked me what I was doing for Christmas recently and I nearly had a meltdown. It's only October for Christ's sake...

As I'm writing this it's the day after Halloween. Another celebration that we have decided to turn into a festival of fun and drunken behaviour. I was in the city centre last night and watched an endless parade of people dressed up in a variety of weird and in some cases crap costumes staggering around looking like there had been an explosion in a ketchup factory. When I was younger I don't remember ever celebrating this time of the year. You'd get some people knocking on the door trick or treating, but that was about it. None of this costume drama. But now it's acceptable fun.

It seems to me that we use anything as an excuse to party nowadays. "Hi Dave, I'm having a party cos I've just bought some nice new shoes, are you in?". Now, I'm not some curmudgeon who doesn't like people having fun, no way. I just don't think we should use the fact that the day of the week has a 'Y' in it as an excuse. Stick to the traditional days when it makes more sense.

In the summer people had bbq's all the time basically just because the sun happened to be out for 45 minutes on a Saturday afternoon. I couldn't move in Tesco's for people buying beer and hamburger buns just so they could partially cook some meat and give everyone food poisoning. Not my idea of a fun evening out to be honest, but people seem to feel that they have to do it to have a good time and celebrate the weather being nice for once.

This is sunshine. You might not recognise it..

So, because someone mentioned Christmas to me it's now on my mind. I used to love Christmas when I was a kid, but now it's just a pain in the arse. It really is true when they say 'Christmas is for children' as I pretty much can't stand it. A friend of mine doesn't bother to put a Christmas tree up, she just hangs some tinsel off of the lemon tree in her front room instead. Sounds like a plan to me. In fact, I haven't put a proper tree up for about 5 years now. I have a lovely 6ft tree which is gathering dust in my loft as there is no logical place to stand it in my living room. I therefore don't bother and you know what? It doesn't make my life any less complete.

My birthday is very close to Christmas and it winds me up pretty much every year. Lots of people forget and basically blame me for having a birthday at that time of year. Yeah, cos I had control over that one. It also means that people seem to think that giving you a 'combined Christmas and birthday present' is acceptable. Really? So if I said to someone with a birthday in July that I was going to get them a slighter bigger gift, but they couldn't have it until Christmas that's be ok would it? Didn't think so. If anyone reading this knows someone with a festive birthday, for fucks sake DO NOT buy them a combined gift. They will not thank you for it. Trust me, I speak from bitter experience. Although, that CD system was great, thanks mum...

Take heed....

Other notable celebrations include Easter (an excuse to egg chocolate until you're sick), pancake day (an excuse to eat pancakes until you're sick), St George's day (piss up), St Patrick's day (piss up), bonfire night (pay over the odds for some fireworks which last about 5 seconds) and of course New Year (booze, fireworks, dancing and trying to pull the person you've had your eye on all year). You could also throw into the pot weddings and christenings which always make me feel out of place, but I seem to get invited to more now as I am an old fart.

What else? Oh yes. Work stuff. Leaving do's, anniversaries, Christmas party, special birthday's, moving the photocopier to a new position...

This is just an amusing picture that I thought I'd share!

I was actually at an awards evening last week which was a nice affair. It was actually a celebration for me as I won 2 awards (check me out), but there were certainly some people that enjoyed it a little bit more than me. Out till 4am, hungover the next day looking like death on wheels was not really that good a look to be honest. But each to their own. I celebrated my success by having a chocolate eclair that my other half bought me as a present. Yep, it's all about the cake for me. You can keep your champers and partying till the early hours, the way to my heart involves feet up, watching the Walking Dead and eating cake. Now that's what I call a celebration...

"Liam, Nicola's Watching Prisoner Cell Block H"....

Now, as you probably know I spend most of my time at work doing techie things and pretending to know what I'm talking about. It's the part of my job I like the most and the one that takes up most of my time.

Last week a colleague of mine did something that made me laugh so much I had to write about it. I don't name names on here so I'll refer to him as 'Mr Chocolate Milk' throughout this piece. He's a very good friend of mine and regularly has me in hysterics as we share the common bond of both being east end gangsters born and bred. Innit...

Just don't ask me who I am

Anyway, we have a great piece of tech at work called DameWare which I'm sure is used all over the place. It allows the user to log remotely onto someone else's PC so they can fix it, show the person how to do something or generally check up on them if you're that way inclined. So, Mr Chocolate Milk phoned me up and then logged onto my PC to show me how to do something specific. All was ok, it went well and he showed me what I needed to know. Now, the problem is that when someone logs onto your machine, they also have control over it aswell and can basically do whatever they want. And guess what? This is exactly what the cheeky git did.

He decided to go onto YouTube and have a search around for something to show me. He came up with an episode of 'Prisoner Cell Block H' and pointed out where the show was filmed as he'd recently been to Australia himself. Now, this is all very interesting, but why was it so funny? Well, he then decided to shout across to one of the managers nearby in his office and in a very loud voice said "Liam, I've just remotely logged onto Nicola's machine and she's watching Prisoner Cell Block H. That's terrible"...

Never trust people who work in IT...

I could have swung for him if I wasn't laughing so hard. Luckily I know the manager in question and he knew it was a joke, but it could have gone a bit wrong if it'd been someone else! Pretty much since then Mr Chocolate Milk has been threatening to log back onto my PC to see what episode I'm up to!!

The reason I found it so funny is probably because it's something I would do myself! I love a joke at work and I think people know me well enough that I'll take it as well as give it back. I guess the moral of the story is be careful what you have on your screen just in case someone logs on or make sure you trust who has the power to check up on you! I'll get him back, don't you worry about that...

I was also doing some testing at work last week and whilst having a quick cuppa took the photo below of me with my feet up in a comedy style and posted it on Twitter. Mr Chocolate Milk decided to share this picture with my office manager the following day who thought it was hilarious. To anyone who doesn't know me it probably looks very much like I in fact don't do much work at all, but in reality I am always at my desk till gone 6pm and rarely have a lunch break anymore. All of my own doing so don't feel sorry for me, but I guess it makes it amusing because it's completely the opposite of who I am. If I was a lazy git it wouldn't be as easy to wind me up I suppose.

A laptop, cuppa, biccies what more could you want?

A word to the wise, never trust people who work in IT. They have the power and the means to make you look very silly indeed. But on the other hand they can fix all your PC problems so maybe buy them sweets and keep them onside as you never know when you might need their help.

My little notebook which I keep on my desk for writing down the random things I hear has become famous! My colleagues will now say something, look at me and ask "are you writing that down for your blog?" It seems this section has become infamous and my little goldmine of amusement is trying hard to make the grade from notebook to blog post! So here's one of his best from a few weeks ago.

For some reason he was rummaging through his rucksack looking for something. No idea what he was doing, but I heard a mumble and looked up to find he was holding a cherry tomato. I carried on with what I was doing until he shouted again and was holding another one. This went on for some time until he became very animated and shouted "It's out of control!! There's about  6 of them at the bottom of my bag!!" In the end there was actually about 15 of them all rolling around loose in his bag. No idea why and I don't think he knew either which is what made it so funny. It was kind of like watching a magician, but instead of pulling coloured scarves out of a hat, it was tomatoes from a rucksack. He continued to look in his bag and informed us all that "I've also got a headlamp, some cables, a very small pack of cards and a tin of fish". It was the most random selection of stuff I've ever seen. He also used to carry a small canister of gas for a camping stove around, but that's another story.

I have a feeling that we may have found the final resting place of the Holy Grail and perhaps Shergar. They're both in the bottom of a rucksack in the Midlands with some salad tomatoes if you're interested...

Beware of out of control fruit

Have you tried it in Chrome?....

Now, I don't really write much about my job for a few reasons. It's not something that I want to share cos it's work right, and also it's quite hard for me to put into words what I actually do. I've never considered myself to have a career and I was never someone who was driven to be anything in particular so why would that be interesting?

When I was young I seem to remember that I wanted to be a vet. But when I found out about how long it took to study etc I was kind of put off. Not that I was lazy, nope, just more interested in reading or music than studying. I always add at this point that this doesn't mean I'm not clever. I have an extremely good memory which I think can come out as intelligence, but I do not class myself as academic. I did ok at school though, but I didn't really like it much as I was one of those kids on the outside. I wasn't cool, but I wasn't hated either. I was just there I guess. I carved out a role being funny when I was around 14 and I think that's when my love of sarcasm started. It's still something I do now, but quite often it falls flat as people have no idea if I'm joking or not. As a disclaimer, approximately 90% of what I say is usually sarcasm. Right, now we've got that cleared up let's move on...

So why am I writing about work and what do I do? Well, I'm not going to name who or where I work so don't ask me that. What I will say is that my role is mainly quite technical, so yes, I am a geek. I work with IT, but I'm not in IT, although I think I should (and would like) to work in IT. I was never employed as a tech, but due to my understanding and ability it has become a large part of what I do every day and I have to say, it's my favourite part of what I do. I decided to write about it as I sometimes think I am quite different to other geeks as I am a non-tech working in tech which can be quite hard as I don't come from the same background. Someone I work with regularly picks me up on it and says "are you sure you don't work in IT?" due to the things I say and do. My favourite quote from him was this: "you are the most technie non-tech I know". I like that one and I think I might have it put on a t-shirt...!

I never set out to work with computers or systems, but everywhere I've worked I've ended up learning and then teaching the system we used. I spent a long time working in insurance and had to learn and use bespoke systems as part of my job. It came easy to me and this is a pattern that has continued. Any time there is a new system or website at work, it usually ends up with me to work out or manage in some way. This is also the same at home. My family always ask me about computer stuff and I am the go to person with mobile phones whether I know about them or not. I recently got asked to update the contacts on a Samsung phone (never owned this brand in my life) whilst being asked which wi-fi printer is worth buying (don't have one of those either). And yes, I did both of those tasks.

Yeah, I can reset one of these no worries...

In my office I sit with a group of programmers and they often like to test me with words or check my understanding of things. More often than not I'll get it wrong, but one day I'll be able to explain what a GUID is correctly, just you wait!

I guess the reason this post was in my mind is because of something that happened this week. I attended a conference and met other people who did kind of similar jobs to me. It was nice to be with other geeky types for once although it was obvious that not everyone gets as excited about tech as me. I have to admit I didn't actually realise it excited me either until I found myself explaining something to some people and caught sight of myself being all enthusiastic about it like a loon. It was a bit of a lightbulb moment when I looked at their faces, realised they had absolutely no clue what I was talking about, but there I was enjoying telling them all about plugins and stuff. Slightly embarrassed to say the least...

I loves it

Now this is all very well, but it's probably not that interesting to you really. It just gives you an idea of my personality a bit I guess and the fact that I am thinking about my career for once. I considered writing another blog about being a technie non-tech, but I'm not sure it would be that engaging or I would have enough to say really so this post will do for now.

Here are some things I've learnt that could help with your IT problems (in order of importance):

1. Have you tried turning it off and on again? This is key to everything.
2. Have you tried it in Chrome? A newer one, but it seems that Chrome is apparently the god of browsers sent to save us all from the inadequacies of IE.
3. Which site are you trying to access? Yeah, your network password is probably not going to log you into Twitter my dear (unless its the same one and then I'd maybe reconsider that actually love).
4. Is it actually plugged in? If your keyboard isn't working, stand up with it in your hands and take 3 steps backwards. If it stays in your grasp then it's not plugged in...

You can't get away from technology, it's everywhere so perhaps you should embrace it and see what happens. I will say though, if you hear any mumblings about Skynet, be afraid, be very afraid...

Have accent, will travel....

I have been to America and Canada several times and in the past I have to say the locals have struggled to understand what I was saying due to my heavy accent.  To be fair, some of the people I work with struggle with it too (or maybe just switch off when I'm talking) so it could be that I just don't talk proper...

Beautiful people - apparently you CAN understand me

Anyway, not long ago I was in America for a well deserved holiday and was sure that once again the lovely people of the USA would not understand me in the local shops etc.  I therefore made the person who inhabits my house / life and has never had problems abroad before do most of the chat.  For the purposes of this story and of clarity he is a scouser with a reasonably broad Liverpool accent.  And guess what? This time, for the first time ever they understood me and not him! I was made up!! In fact, one chap I was talking to told me "I really like your accent". My response to this was "What my accent?" as I pointed at myself. I thought he was taking the piss, but no, he did in fact like the way I sounded when I spoke. Blimey...

I think perhaps Guy Ritchie has done me a favour by making his mockney crime films and delivering the likes of Jason Statham to the world. In fact, I do tend to use that as a description when I'm talking to people online "yeah, I sound like I should be in one of his films as a cockney villain. You get the idea".

If you don't answer my question I'll shoot you. No, shoot you...

My friend and Twitter buddy Michelle is from Boston and is convinced that she will be able to understand me when we meet in the future. I'm not so sure, but it will certainly be interesting as the Boston accent is also a pretty strong. When I met my hero Patrick Stump for 30 seconds last year (and what a 30 seconds they were) he did seem to understand me when I mumbled "It was nice to meet you" at him shyly as his response was "it was nice to meet you too". Perhaps I'm doing my lovely accent a dis-service by thinking it's too strong for people to handle. Or maybe not...

It did bring hilarity to the streets of Nottingham last week, in Marks and Spencers of all places.  I was with my partner in crime Nicole and we were in the shop buying some iced buns to scoff that afternoon back at work. I was paying and the nice lady behind the counter said "they look nice" to which I replied "yes, we're having a bun party later at work". She did a double take and said "a what party??" with a slight look of concern on her face. Nicole was pissing herself laughing as I pointed at the iced buns and said "a bun party, with these here. We're going to eat them". Realization dawned and the cashier then cracked up laughing and couldn't stop. She was still giggling away after I'd paid and was leaving the store. The curse of the cockney strikes again.

Iced buns. Available for parties everywhere...

I seem to have a lot of accents in my life as well as my own. My late granddad was from Northern Ireland and despite living in the UK for well over 50 years he never lost his beautiful Irish drawl. Others had difficulty understanding him sometimes, but I guess because I had grown up hearing him sound like that I could totally get everything he said. This leads me to believe that my distinct vocal assault is not going anywhere soon as I have lived in the Midlands for over 10 years now and it hasn't softened at all. It's not going anyway soon is what I regularly tell people. I also have a few friends who are Scottish and they have pleasant enough tones too which I find easy to listen too. What they're saying might be complete drivel, but at least it's said in a nice sounding voice (sorry Ian and Steven, I don't mean it really!).

I do have difficulties in Europe with my accent though. When I was in Rome last year it was anything but easy. Once again I got the other half to do the majority of the talking as I was greeted with blank faces when I tried to ask for anything in shops.

So, the question is do I need to do something to tone myself down a bit or should I just embrace what I've got and go for it? I suppose it depends on the situation, but as this accent is going nowhere fast I would say "tough shit. This is how I sound so get used to it buddy!".

Rather than remembering the funny comments I hear at work I've started to leave my notebook on my desk and jot them down when I hear them. I've heard 2 great ones over the last week or so from a couple of likely lads in the office.

The first was my yoghurt eating colleague talking about what he had for lunch. He said to another colleague "I once ate a whole packet of chocolate digestives for lunch once. I think there were about 30 in the pack and I ate them all. I did feel quite sick afterwards though". I wonder why....

Secondly I was talking to the chap who sits opposite me and called him Lionel Blair in conversation (I can't quite remember why now). Anyway, a voice chirps up and says "there's something about Lionel Blair that I just don't trust. You know what I mean?". Not really no. Can you give me a clue.... BOOM BOOM!! Sorry, bad joke, but couldn't resist.

Have a banana...

I think people have this idea that all cockneys sing songs together whist standing around a piano.  This also involves a certain kind of jig that we all do, but I alas cannot.  You know the one.  Where you jump in the air and click your heels together.  Yeah, that’s it.  Well we all do that apparently.  Someone tried to do it once in my office whilst trying to mock me.  He ended up hurting his back which made me laugh quite a bit.  Serves you right….

Anyway, so we all like Chas and Dave and we all sing ‘Knees up Mother Brown’ round the old Joanna.  It couldn’t be more from the truth in my case.  Now I’m not saying that we don’t like these songs.  I sing them to wind other people up, but I can honestly say, hand on heart, I do not know all the lyrics to Snooker Loopy.  Pot the reds and screw back, for the yellow, green, brown, blue, pink and black…. Cough, cough, ahem….

I guess there are a lot of old music hall songs which are associated with being a cockney.  Here are a few, see if you recognise them:

Roll out the Barrel / Doing the Lambeth Walk / My Old Man’s a Dustman / Any Old Iron

I’m sure you know the words and would agree that these songs actually start a good old sing song when you hear them.  I think they get labelled as ‘having a good old knees up’ which I guess basically means a big party with singing and dancing.  It adds to the sense of having fun.

The nearest I have been to a knees up is running for the bus, so it’s not something I can say a lot about.  Growing up in the 80s and 90s this wasn’t exactly the kind of music I listened to.  In fact, I have no idea why I know the words to some of these songs, perhaps there is a ‘cockney microchip’ in my tiny brain somewhere which contains this must know information…

It does get quite tiresome having someone sing ‘have a banana’ at you cos they think it’s funny, but I do try to smile through gritted teeth at them.  It’s a novelty and they think they are being amusing so I don’t want to rain on their parade.

Bill Bailey did a wonderful sketch about how cockney music is contained in some classical pieces.  It’s very funny and it’s below for you to watch.  Do it right now!

I’m not going to write about the music that I like here as I do that on my other blog and it would be very tedious to regurgitate the same old stuff here aswell.  So if you want to know what I think about music, you need to visit my Call Me Cynical blog.

Going out in the East End I would assume is pretty similar to anywhere else in the world.  We have pubs and clubs and we get drunk and have fights.  There was an ever changing selection of clubs that I used to go to each with its own unique history.  Such as ‘Fifth Avenue’ in Ilford which we used to call ‘Filth’ due to what went on in there.  Sticking to the floor or having the guys buy you an over-priced dead rose was all part of the fun.

My local pubs were all pretty dire to be honest.  At the time I was growing up we didn’t have this late licensing business and chucking out time was 11pm.  It was then you went on a long wander to try and find somewhere that was still open.  We had one such place which was called Champers and was classed as a wine bar so it could stay open until around 2am.  It was a tiny place and you were best to try and get in there early enough as they could only fit about 25 people on the dance floor!  I do remember that they sold slush puppy style alcoholic drinks (please bear in mind this was a long time ago!) which you could basically drink in one go, get an ice-cream style headache from the coldness of it while you got pissed at the same time.  I got asked to look after someone’s drink once while they went to the loo.  Let’s just say it wasn’t available for them when they got back….   

Alcoholic slushie - yum!

There was also lovely O’Neill’s in Leytonstone which was a pub and a music bar in the evenings.  I spent much of my youth hanging out in there looking for trouble.  Spit and sawdust is a turn that comes to mind, and you could quite easily be sitting on the floor doing the ‘Oops Upside Your Head’ dance whilst getting an arse full of glass!  Memories.

Then there were the so called clubs.  Nothing special really, just a place that happened to be in the middle of nowhere and open till the early hours.  The one I guess I spent the most amount of time in was called Eros.  It was on an industrial estate so you had to get a taxi there and back and to be honest, it was awful.  You can be a ‘member’ if you wanted.  Wooh!  How exciting.  And what does that mean?  Basically you get a cheap and tacky card which you will no doubt lose before the end of the night and have to get replaced the next time you went there.  When I was about 25ish I remember going to Eros on a week night and being allowed in for over 40s night!  Before you ask, I do not look that old (in fact I look remarkably well preserved for my age), but they must have been very desperate as my accomplice was about 19!!  Anyway, it was carnage.  Who knew that the over 40s crowd were so down and dirty?? Man, I saw some things that I would rather forget…

After our exciting night of drinking, we would make the stop at the local chicken shop.  Why oh why does everyone crave fried chicken when they are drunk?  My best mate got me a chicken burger once without me even asking for it.  It was like tradition or something.  Next to the chicken shop was an alleyway which I can somewhat ashamedly say I went for a piss down once.  I’m not proud of myself, but needs must.  Good job there was no CCTV.  Well, I don’t think there was…

  

Office Overheard

Today’s office comment came after witnessing someone eat 2 yoghurts while the pots were still attached to each other. To set the scene, the pots are attached and he balanced them one over each side of his index finger. 

“Why do you leave the pots attached to each other?” I foolishly asked.  The response was “I eat them like this so I can do other things with my hand at the same time”.  He wiggled his fingers under the pots at me as if to prove it.  “Like what?” I asked to which he replied “I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet”….Hmmm.

The Wheels on The Bus Go Round and Round...

As discussed previously, I spend a large part of my day travelling to and from work.  As I work in the city centre of Nottingham it is easier (I use that term loosely) to get the bus back and forth.  Now, this is the bane of my life on most days, but it also gives me an opportunity to have a ponder and also people watch / eavesdrop.

If I could read on the bus I would have got through the massive pile of books I have got in no time at all, but alas, I am of the persuasion where it makes me feel a bit tom dick so I don’t bother.  I am usually plugged into my iPod instead. 

Check out that view

Even with headphones in I can still overhear some dozy arse conversations sometimes.  A woman not long ago plonked herself down next to me and phoned her mother as soon as she sat down.  This woman was around 40 odd I’d guess and she proceeded to inform ‘mother’ of what she had been buying whilst shopping.  I got the ins and outs of the Debenhams sale, how she had a money saving voucher, but it didn’t work, so she went to customer services and it turns out that the item wasn’t in the offer, but she wanted the item, so she bought it anyway, but it meant that she saved on some trousers…..AHHHHH!!!!  It went on for about 30 minutes.  I was near to strangling her with my headphones cord, but I resisted the urge and put some thrash metal on to calm myself down….

A top tip for you – there is usually someone being annoying loud on the bus talking on their mobile phone.  If however, you don’t think this is the case, then its more than likely you.  Think on it…

Something else that people on the bus are guilty of is taking up 2 seats with all their bags.  I will admit, I have done this before, BUT in my defence I only do it when there are plenty of empty seats.  I wouldn't dream of doing it when there is no room.  Although to be fair, most of the time no-one wants to sit next to me anyway with the exception of the talkative old woman who ignores the fact I have headphones in and proceeds to disturb me all the way home.  She’s great!  There was also the time I got totally drenched in a down pour and it could have looked a bit like I had pissed myself, but I swear I hadn’t.  Not on that occasion anyway….

 

Form an orderly queue please

Then we have the queue jumpers.  Grrrrr, this gets me really riled up.  I have been waiting patiently in a queue (as is the British way) and some knobhead disregards the line of people and waltzes onto the bus first.  It makes my blood boil.  But as is also the British way, we ignore it and just mumble to ourselves that it was ‘frightfully rotten of him’ and do nothing.  I did shove someone out of the way once when he tried to push in front of me and the sense of achievement was amazing!  Take that you prick!  Strangely, come to think of it, I haven’t seen him for a long time.  Hmm….

The bus I catch to work doesn’t appear to have any sort of timetable whatsoever.  I just rock up whenever I can and hope that it will appear soon.  Usually it doesn’t, but I can’t bring myself to walk to another stop and catch another bus.  “I've committed to this one and need to stick with it” I say to myself and the 3^rd other bus I can catch drives past…. One day I will learn and will perhaps be fit enough to run for the alternative.  When I say “I can’t even run for the bus”, I genuinely mean this.  I am so unfit it’s not funny.  If I ever have to run for the bus it takes me about 20 minutes of heavy breathing to calm myself down afterwards.  The other passengers probably think they’re dialed into a dirty phone line with all the noise.  Not that I would know what that sounds like of course….

The drivers themselves can either be very nice or down right miserable gits.  Last night was a prime example of a total dick driver on the bus I got home.  It was parked up at the stop, but as I went to get on-board he shut the doors.  He then decided to allow me on, but his machine wasn’t logged in so when I tried to ‘touch on’ using my card the machine went a bit haywire.  “You can’t do it yet, you can’t do it yet” he shouted at me.  Alright happy, calm down will you.  “I’m already running 10 minutes late” he spat at me.  Well that’s not my fault is it.  You clearly weren’t waiting for me were you as you have just tried to kill me by closing the doors on my head, you moron.  In London the bus drivers are encased in ten foot of plastic so no-one can get near them.  They don’t make eye contact with you and certainly don’t speak to you.  I’m not sure what is worse, having drivers who are totally removed from you or having ignorant ones who think it’s acceptable to be rude to you.  Although, to be fair, you don’t need to be driving a bus to do that…

Office Overheard

My office is full of amusing little tit-bits so I decided to share these with you.  I have to admit, some of the time I deliberately set things up to cause amusement, but sometimes there are gems of comments that need to be shared. 

Today’s comment came after a discussion on fish and chips and what you have with it.  Someone was talking about mushy peas and the response was “I don’t like mushy peas.  I like to know where one pea ends and another one starts”…. Genius.

Southern Comfort...

WARNING!  This blog contains swearing!

There are plenty of blogs around that discuss life in various cities around the UK so I guess this won’t be that different to any of those.  I decided to write this as I wanted to share with you my views and feelings about coming from East London and being classed as a cockney when you live somewhere else in the country and feel like a bit of an outsider.

Now, actually, I am not really a proper cockney.  I sound like one, but I’m more of a mockney (mock cockney).  In fact I sound a bit like I should be in a Guy Richie film playing a villain.  To be a proper cockney you need to have been born within the sound of the Bow Bells, which sadly I wasn’t.  Here’s a little bit of info from Wikipedia on this:

The term Cockney has geographical, social, and linguistic associations. Traditionally, it refers to people born within a certain area of London that is covered by "the sound of Bow bells". It is often used to refer to working-class Londoners in the East End. Linguistically, it can refer to the accent and form of English spoken by this group.

Can you hear the sound of Bow Bells?

I grew up in East London and lived there until I was about 27.  Since then I have lived in the Midlands and this is part of the reason why I wanted to write this blog.  Coming from somewhere outside of this area causes the people I work and socialise with no end of amusement.  I think it is perhaps the only reason that I am employed where I work, to bring fun and endless comedy value to the office.  I don’t think a day goes by where someone doesn't try to imitate my accent.  “Cor blimey guvnor” or “apples and pears” are just some of the things that are regularly thrown at me.  I wouldn’t mind, but I'm pretty sure I've never called someone guvnor in my life….

Anyway, it’s interesting to think that where you come from brings with it a whole set of assumptions.  I mean, along with the slang words I think people genuinely think I dress up at the weekend as a Pearly Queen.  Don’t be so stupid people, that’s reserved for special occasions only….

My weekend attire I'll have you know...

For a short time I had a co-conspirator at work who came from Croydon.  He also sounded like me so we were the 2 southerners in the midst of Middle Earth.  It was comforting to have someone who sounded familiar and we had a lot of laughs telling people we were actually related as clearly all people from the South know one another.  And as is portrayed so heavily in Eastenders (cos it’s totally real) none of us own a washing machine and we all drink in one pub.  He once told me that the fact the locals could not handle our accents was because the Midlands don’t really have one and as such they actually have no idea what to do with it so they resort to poking at it with a stick.  It’s true, the accent around here is very mild.  Quite pleasant, but it doesn’t really stand out at all so I think I can see his point.

Living as an idiot abroad comes with a whole new set of rules.  I have to repeat myself a lot as the folks can’t quite grasp my lack of pronunciation.  In fact, we cockneys tend to add letters into words just for the fun of it.  The word castle is a good example.  We say it as CARS-ALL adding in an ‘R’ for literally reason whatsoever.  No idea why, we just do.  I guess we just want to use as many letters of the alphabet as we can.

One of the most interesting debates that you can have is the whole rolls and cobs debacle.   It goes a little something like this:

For the South – it’s a roll.

For the Midlands – it’s a cob.

For the North West – it’s a barm.

In Scotland – it’s a bap.

It’s an absolute minefield and it amuses me no end.  The same as the fact that in the South we don’t have anything wet with our chips (except possibly vinegar - yuk!)  Since living in the Midlands I have discovered that things like gravy and curry sauce are the usual additions with your fish and chips.  This is not the case in the South and when my friend from London came to visit and I had gravy with my meal I never heard the end of it!  GRAVY?? GRAVY???!!! 

Now, in the good old East End we have pie and mash which is an institution.  I can remember as a kid being taken to Manze’s pie and mash shop in Walthamstow and sitting in a booth having lunch.  It was a tradition, but I never had the liquor on top which apparently you then have to cover with vinegar (again yuk!).  The shop is still there so if you are ever in the neighbourhood, go and check it out as the mash is lovely!

Yum, pie and mash!

Living in London used to mean getting the Tube to work every day which was an experience that I guess you just got used to.  Standing up for 40 minutes pressed into some strangers armpit was the highlight of my day.  Now I get the bus into the city centre of Nottingham each day which brings with it some new joys.  We are currently having new tram lines built which means constant delays to and from work, but I do get to people watch which can be fun.  I sat behind someone last week who was doing the Metro crossword whilst proceeding to wipe his nose on his sleeve and hoping that no-one would notice.  Dirty bugger.  I saw you and I wasn’t impressed.  I bet he then rang with bell with the same hand…. nasty.

One other thing I will touch on briefly before I go is the fact that I mostly cannot have a conversation without introducing some sort of swear word into it. I can’t help it.  It’s part of our language and we have to emphasise things by adding a f**k or calling something shit.  It’s the law of the East End and I actually think most swear words sound better in my accent.  I tested this out once with a friend from Darlington and when he said some words they sounded cute and fluffy.  Not in the cockney accent my friends.  We were built for swearing and don’t you f**king forget it…!!

Now p**s off and let me do some more people watching…!