How quickly things change

Manager of a project I supported. His facial features always reminded me of a stereotype and there was a twang in his accent that I couldn't place.

One day it clicked. First into the meeting (less him, who'd been in the previous meeting), five minutes before parade, we greeted. He had Boer blood. South Africa? Without getting from his seat, he bristled and stood tall.

Rhodesia. From his age, he was probably displaced by Mugabe 50 years ago. He forgave me.
I was at Uni with a guy who had been born and raised in Zimbabwe before Mugabe launched another round of "Kill the White Farmers" and the family ended up in SA and then Milton Keynes. I know... The horror!

He was brought up to still consider it to be Rhodesia.

Scars, it seems, heal hard
 
And some people wonder why I settled in the US :)

Accent-wise, I'm nowhere. I grew up a woollyback Scouser, and to be honest, it grates on my ears when I hear it now. Same as Brummies, Cockneys, Mancs and Welsh :)

The Army ironed out a lot of it. I use words like "mucker" and "tab" (cigarette) that have no place in my upbringing. I still have the short "a" in "bath" like "sand", but other than that, you'd be hard pressed to figure out where I was from. I did technical training when I left the mob, all over the world, so I learned to speak quite deliberately and with as little accent as possible to let the various Johnny Foreigners have the best opportunity to understand the "white man's gospel of telecommunications".

Having been in the US 14 years, I still have the UK accent, but use some American words, even if spoken in an English accent. Working for a US company, I'm the "secret weapon" on our team. We might have fcuked something up spectacularly, but if I explain how it happened, it's all OK :)
Hail fellow Woollyback.

To be honest, time as a STAB and working for the MoD taking me to some of the scanner parts of Britain.... Has made me sound like some sort of lovechild of the Beatles, Wurzels and a Pirate sometimes.

I find I come out with a lot of Lancashire and Yorkshire slang when I think about it. Throw in a smattering of Squaddie Talk and many of my colleagues are frequently confused.
 

ancienturion

LE
Book Reviewer
I was at Uni with a guy who had been born and raised in Zimbabwe before Mugabe launched another round of "Kill the White Farmers" and the family ended up in SA and then Milton Keynes. I know... The horror!

He was brought up to still consider it to be Rhodesia.

Scars, it seems, heal hard
When I worked in South Africa it was interesting to meet immigrant people who, if of European ancestry told me they came from Rhodesia, whereas those of negroid ancestry would inform me they were originally from Zimbabwe.
 
It baffles me when people think I'm a Scouser from my accent, despite Woollyback being markedly different to Scouse..... Let along when people can't tell the difference between Merseysiders and the bloody Mancunians.

Especially bloody Southerners :p
 
It gets my dander up, it truly does that there's oodles of money for the Celtic Mafia and their dead languages and NOTHING for the English dialects.

My grandmother, when in the right mood, she was a bad-tempered because of arthritis of the hips most of the time, would teach us dialect. When she and my Great-Aunt were together, their yakking was another language, more akin to a cross between Dutch and Danish.

I encouraged the kids I taught to learn and cherish their local words, no matter where I was, Lancs, Meseyside, York's. Once you lose your words, you've lost not only your identity but your ancestors too!

PLEASE don't ever correct a kid for using dialect.

Fcek RP!
My Grandmother was born and raised in Liverpool. She was taught at school and home to moderate her accent lest people thought they were common.
She was also taught to avoid lads who followed football as they were nothing but trouble. Red or blue.
 
My Grandmother was born and raised in Liverpool. She was taught at school and home to moderate her accent lest people thought they were common.
She was also taught to avoid lads who followed football as they were nothing but trouble. Red or blue.
I'm guilty of emphasising my accent to increasing degrees depending on how much someone on the phone or in a meeting is annoying me.

Usually gets rid of them quite quickly.
 
BBC radio 2, the morning traffic reporter has perfect perceived BBC English. Until he has to report a Rail Buzz Replacement Service. Then his origins show.

CFB


Take an Orange from the box.
 
It baffles me when people think I'm a Scouser from my accent, despite Woollyback being markedly different to Scouse..... Let along when people can't tell the difference between Merseysiders and the bloody Mancunians.

Especially bloody Southerners :p

Anything north of Watford, jocks, anything north of Glasgow,, Eskimos,....... Gawd bless yer guv!
 
Anything north of Watford, jocks, anything north of Glasgow,, Eskimos,....... Gawd bless yer guv!
I full concur with the North of Glasgow bit, though I'd modify it to "Anything North of Lancaster, Bandit, Heathen and Savage Country"
 
Funny you say that. I now find some very thick American accents a bit grating, especially when spoken by girls...I can't believe it...it's almost like nails on a chalkboard..
It's that whiney nasal thing they do. Makes my fingers twitch imagining choking it out of them.
 
It's that whiney nasal thing they do. Makes my fingers twitch imagining choking it out of them.
Not that “vocal fry” thing you’re referring to is it?
 
It's that whiney nasal thing they do. Makes my fingers twitch imagining choking it out of them.
A while back the present Mrs R and I were in the Netherlands. A small town about 15km from Amsterdam. Blazing hot day, so we stopped at a canal side cafe for a couple of cooling beers and a light bite. After a pleasant interlude, three American girls sat opposite. Then the waitresses work started. After translating the whole menu for them (there was a menu in English, but they didn’t look at it), the Yankee trio ordered drinks. Which were inadequate. Not enough ice, beer not what they thought etc. So waitress runs to and fro, bar to tables (over the road).
Then the food arrived. I had half an ear out when these Daughters of the American Revolution ordered and thought “OK, they are hungry”. Not fat girls, they had ordered enough for about six people. Ate a few forkfuls, all the time complaining about the heat, the locals, the food, their hotel and all the time on their phones. I know that’s par for the course for the youngsters these days, but a more ungrateful, whinging group of spoiled kids you would not like to meet.
And the point is the whinging and whining when done in American is toe-curlingly awful. Petulant, pitiful and pathetic. Not a shred of self-awareness or humour.
We drank up and left. And no, I do not have any photos of their norks.
 
It's that whiney nasal thing they do. Makes my fingers twitch imagining choking it out of them.
My wife seems to like American animal news stories, many of the reporters seem to have this accent. I can't imagine waking up and the other half sounds like them, I can see why gun crime is endemic!
 
Not that “vocal fry” thing you’re referring to is it?
There's a whiney nasal accent favoured by young American women that penetrates like a jagged chunk of shrapnel. Makes me want to crush the source of the racket in their throats with a large rock again and again and again and again and again...
 
A while back the present Mrs R and I were in the Netherlands. A small town about 15km from Amsterdam. Blazing hot day, so we stopped at a canal side cafe for a couple of cooling beers and a light bite. After a pleasant interlude, three American girls sat opposite. Then the waitresses work started. After translating the whole menu for them (there was a menu in English, but they didn’t look at it), the Yankee trio ordered drinks. Which were inadequate. Not enough ice, beer not what they thought etc. So waitress runs to and fro, bar to tables (over the road).
Then the food arrived. I had half an ear out when these Daughters of the American Revolution ordered and thought “OK, they are hungry”. Not fat girls, they had ordered enough for about six people. Ate a few forkfuls, all the time complaining about the heat, the locals, the food, their hotel and all the time on their phones. I know that’s par for the course for the youngsters these days, but a more ungrateful, whinging group of spoiled kids you would not like to meet.
And the point is the whinging and whining when done in American is toe-curlingly awful. Petulant, pitiful and pathetic. Not a shred of self-awareness or humour.
We drank up and left. And no, I do not have any photos of their norks.
No pics of their headless corpses before going into the canal chained to a breeze block either, I suppose.
 

mechanicalhorsetrough

On ROPS
On ROPs
I left London in 1984 to join the Army, I’d travelled a bit before, lucky enough to have holidays etc. as a kid, but the huge mix of accents in phase 1 when I got there, it was like Auf Viedersehen, Pet on acid. I couldn’t understand a lot of them at first, but it didn’t take long to make friends, some still today, and understand my eclectic mix of muckers. I found it fascinating all the accents and different ways of saying the same thing, over the years I became attuned to most or all accents and dialect, some phrases and sayings rubbing off and being adopted by myself, I don’t sound anything like a Londoner any more, mates from back home say I talk weird. I find it fascinating that accents can change very very slightly as you move from area to area, sometimes only a few miles apart, made a few mistakes along the way too, never call someone from the Black Country a Brummy, never ask someone from Bury if they are a Manc and never, ever get in a conversation with a Jock from the Outer Hebrides and ask a Scouser to translate for you!
Things change, they move on, the World is getting smaller and the edges are blurring, but believe this, this wonderful little carbuncle on the heel of the World, is the most diverse and cultural melting pot on the planet, it would be such a shame if local dialects died out, our identity would erode with it.
 
It's that whiney nasal thing they do. Makes my fingers twitch imagining choking it out of them.
Was in the US with work earlier in the year and had a few days in Boston. Christ on a raft, I used to think the NY accent made me irate....

That Bostonian nasal accent is like Ear-Amageddon. Especially the women. I went to a bar to catch a Bruins game on the big screen and within half an hour I was worried I'd suffered brain damage from it all.
 
Someone upthread said Edinburgh was easy to understand. When I did my basic training the lad opposite was from Edinburgh and I couldn’t understand him at all! Why didn’t he say “why?” when he meant “why?” Why did he he say “how?” Instead?
And then I met a lad from Glasgow. Nice guys, in fact couldn’t be more friendly. Were they from the same country? Was it me?
 

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