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…!