Sound and vision blog

Jonnie Robinson, Lead Curator for Sociolinguistics writes:

This month we've uploaded linguistic descriptions of conversations about local speech in Tillingham, Ingatestone, Maldon (one with a group of schoolteachers, another with a group of bargemen) and Warley: the set of BBC Voices Recordings made by BBC Essex. The descriptions list the participants' responses to a series of prompt words and in the case of Tillingham, Ingatestone and Maldon also include a summary of the grammar and phonology of the speakers.

The variety of voices belies the widely held, but frustratingly inaccurate, impression of uniform linguistic identity across the county. There are, perhaps inevitably, allusions to particular stereotypes, such as Essex man and Essex girl (both terms considered sufficiently established to warrant entries in the Oxford English Dictionary by the way) and to the spread of Estuary English but also - reflecting more accurately the true variety of arguably the most linguistically intriguing Home County - observations on the important distinction made by speakers in Tillingham between what they call London overspill [= urban Essex dialect] and carrot cruncher [= rural Essex dialect].

A brief selection of words and expressions clearly illustrates the geographical and sociolinguistic variation within the county. Compare a speaker in Tillingham recalling her father's phrase that's banging [= it's drizzling (the first syllable in banging rhymes with 'flange')] and a Maldon barge skipper acknowledging he's often fair shrammed [= cold] with the use by a speaker at Ingatestone Hall of expressions he ascribes to naval slang, such as Harry Redders [= hot], Harry Zonkers [= sleep] and Harry Roughers [= rough (weather)]. And how about the subtly different social signals captured in a Maldon schoolteacher's use of the modern all-purpose intensifier well [= very] in the phrase well chuffed, in contrast to an upper-class speaker's use in Ingatestone of  jolly [= very] in the phrase jolly damn close.

Underestimate Essex linguistically at your peril. As one lifelong resident of the Dengie hundred puts it:

0:52:02 everybody thinks that everyone if you live in Cornwall or Birmingham or Yorkshire you think that everybody who speaks in Essex we don't have any 'T's or aitches in our language which is a load of rubbish

Jonnie Robinson, Lead Curator for Sociolinguistics writes:

As a Sky Blues fan it's great to see Cov take centre stage in ITV's new comedy drama Love and Marriage, which I can thoroughly recommend and not just because one of the main characters plays City's club mascot, Sky Blue Sam. Location drama is a great vehicle for exploring regional speech and identity, as are the Library's accent and dialect recordings. The accents in Love and Marriage are a bit hit and miss, but Niky Wardley is certainly convincing as Heather McCallister - not surprisingly given her performances as Lauren Cooper's best friend Liese Jackson in The Catherine Tate Show, which I've always considered the most linguistically accurate comic portrayal of that variety of teenage speech.

What excited me most, though, in this week's episode (26.06.13) was a scene at the family camp where Caitlin spotted someone hiding behind a tree during a chase game and called out: rally one two three Uncle Charlie I see you. Hats off to the scriptwriters for choosing that particular phrase as this brilliant seeking game is known by a variety of names across the country. I remember playing it almost daily as a child in the 1970s only a few miles up the road in Sutton Coldfield, where it was (and still is) 'acky one two three'. I don't know whether the scriptwriter or maybe Caitlin herself is a Coventrian, but if not they should certainly be congratulated on the thoroughness of their research. Mind you, I'm not sure why Pauline (played by Alison Steadman) responds with ready 1,2,3 Caitlin unless this is intended to lend even more authenticity to the scene in that grandma joins in enthusiastically but 'gets the words wrong'.

Research into children's lore carried out by Iona and Peter Opie in the 1950s confirmed a wide range of names for this game, including 'block one two three' in North East England and Scotland, 'relievo one two three' in Wilmslow, 'forty forty' in South East England, 'mob' in Bristol and South Wales, 'pom pom' in Norwich, 'I-erkey' in Leicester, 'hicky one two three' in Chester and - crucially - 'rally one two three' in Coventry (Children's Games in Street and Playground, 1984 p.161). More recently folklorist Steve Roud reports continued enthusiasm for the game and similar diversity in terms, even quoting an explanation offered in 2007 by a nine-year old boy from Coventry of the rules of 'rally one two three' (The Lore of the Playground, 2010, p.87). Sound recordings made by the Opies in playgrounds across the UK are available on the Library's Sounds site and the Playtimes website explores a century of children's games and rhymes through archival collections and contemporary fieldwork carried out in schools in London and Sheffield.

Sadly I doubt I'll play 'acky one two three' for a while, but when I do bagsy not on.

Jonnie Robinson, Lead Curator for Sociolinguistics writes:

This month we've uploaded linguistic descriptions of conversations about local speech in Aston Cantlow, Bedworth, Coventry, Keresley and Wilmcote: the set of BBC Voices Recordings made by BBC Radio Coventry & Warwickshire. The descriptions list the participants' responses to a series of prompt words and in the case of Bedworth, Coventry and Wilmcote include a summary of the pronunciation and grammar of the contributors.

So what unites speakers in this part of Warwickshire? Well, there's general consensus that Bedworth [bedduth] has a micro-dialect of its own and a strong sense that although accents locally may not be well-known nationally, they're definitely not Brummies as confirmed by this speaker in Coventry:

0:09:27 Coventry has an accent of its own it it’s peculiar to itself it’s not Leicestershire it’s not Bedworth even it and it’s not it’s certainly not Brummy

Common local terms include babby [= baby], pumps [= PE shoes] and - for Coventrians at least - batch [= bread roll]. As a lifelong Sky Blues fan I have many happy memories of trips to Highfield Road, invariably calling in at the chippy on Gulson Road to stock up for the journey home (the best chips in the world according to my son). After one particular Premier League match against Wimbledon (yes, that did happen) we were in the queue behind a group of opposition fans when a local wisecrack suggested they might like to add a salad batch as a side order - a playful reference to the stereotypical southerner flaunting his perceived social superiority even in terms of his eating habits. Sadly, of course, the Wimbledon fans hadn't a clue what a batch was, but the locals got the joke immediately.

There are several linguistic highlights in this batch (excuse the pun) of recordings. There's an abundance of, like, data in the recording with Bedworth teenagers that will interest anyone studying the, like, use of the discourse marker 'like' and that. The awareness in Wilmcote of the local significance of the pronunciation of words such as grass and bath confirms this part of the Midlands as a transition area between a 'northern' short vowel and 'southern' long vowel for words in this set. But above all, the real gem is the discussion in Coventry of City's 1987 FA Cup triumph at Wembley, a result that finally gave Sky Blues fans relief from constant references to the Monty Python World Forum sketch in which Che Guevara is unable to answer what was at the time a trick question: 'Coventry City last won the FA Cup in what year?'

Jonnie Robinson, Lead Curator for Sociolinguistics writes:

Commuters travelling to and from London through Metroland and beyond face a daily choice of tube or train: Chiltern Turbo or Metropolitan Line. So - shall I go home today by tube from Baker Street via Moor Park to Amersham or catch the train from Marylebone to Birmingham Moor Street calling at Beaconsfield? For most I suspect the decision is based on relative cost, speed, comfort and convenience of final destination. Following the Metropolitan Line's upgrade, including new onboard announcements, I wonder if linguistic preferences also come into the equation?

For residents of Buckinghamshire two stations above are superfluous (Moor Park and Birmingham Moor Street). They are only significant in that they both contain the word moor, the pronunciation of which has been changing in RP and some other British English accents since the middle of the 20th century. Older descriptions of RP and speakers of more conservative RP varieties interpret the vowel here as a diphthong (i.e. two adjacent vowel sounds such that moor sounds a little like 'moo-uh'). Younger speakers and more recent descriptions of RP favour a monophthong (i.e. moor rhymes with maw). This transition from diphthong to monophthong affects a group of words known to linguists as the CURE lexical set (e.g. poor, sure, tour and during). Although a relatively low frequency English vowel, a diphthongal pronunciation can contribute to an impression of 'old-fashioned', 'elegant' or perhaps even 'posh' speech, depending on our point of view.

British Library sound recordings provide wonderful evidence of this kind of linguistic change. The following recording from the Millennium Memory Bank (BBC, 1999) illustrates the diphthong variant on the word tour:

C90011591 [female b. 1909]

The recently created VoiceBank (BL, 2011) includes a substantial dataset of present-day RP speech. A preliminary audit of a random sample of RP speakers' pronunciation of the word poor shows an overwhelming preference for the monophthong, although the first speaker below shows the diphthong continues to survive:

C144200391 [male, b. 1949]

C144201689 [female. 1975]

C144200305 [female, b. 1986]

Hang on a minute - what's all this got to do with commuting? Well, intriguingly, the station announcement at Marylebone station and onboard Chiltern Line trains uses the more 'conservative' diphthong in Birmingham Moor Street, while the Metropolitan Line announcements at Moor Park use the more 'contemporary' monophthong. The announcements may be recorded scripts or automatically generated from a list of pre-recorded phonemes, but clearly the underlying phonetic systems differ in their representation of this vowel sound. So - tube or train tonight? The choice is yours (yew-uhs or yaws)!

Jonnie Robinson, Lead Curator for Sociolinguistics writes:

There was a great moment in last week's episode of Coronation Street (04.02.13) when Beth Tinker and Kirk Sutherland were discussing Kirk's sister, Maria Connor:

Kirk: she can be right stubborn, can Maria

Beth: she might be stubborn but I can charm the birds of the trees, me

This exchange illustrates two wonderful devices available in Northern English for adding emphasis to a statement by repeating information from the main clause - what linguists call an emphatic tag. The variant used by Kirk is a verb-noun tag (can Maria) where the noun (Maria) refers back to the pronoun (she) in the previous clause. Speakers of all varieties of English, including 'standard' forms, achieve the same effect with a verb-noun or verb-pronoun tag (she can be very stubborn, Maria can or she can be very stubborn, she can). Beth's use of a simple pronoun tag (me) echoes the pronoun (I) in the previous clause. Earlier in the scene Beth also used a verb-pronoun tag to express her opinion of a DVD: it's right good, is this. Sadly Jim Macdonald left the Street some time ago, but I'm sure he would have joined in, so he would, thereby demonstrating a third type of tag that was a mainstay of Jim's dialogue and is a distinctive feature of speech in Northern Ireland.

Although soap opera dialogue is obviously a creative construct it's nonetheless interesting to see which linguistic features are used to establish character and add local flavour. It's difficult to know whether the use of emphatic tags here originated from the scriptwriters or reflects input from the actors, who each boast genuine familiarity with northern dialect: Kirk is played by Salford actor Andrew Whyment, Beth by Grimsby actor Lisa George. All the constructions noted above are captured in British Library sound recordings that offer clues to the regional and social distribution of each variant:

(i) the pronoun tag appears to be particularly common among younger speakers in the north of England as demonstrated repeatedly by these Salford sixth-form students recorded by the BBC in 2005 - e.g. 0:02:03 I always clock people saying that, me.

(ii) the verb-noun tag is also typical of speech in the north of England as illustrated by this speaker recorded by the BBC in 2004 in Sedbergh, Cumbria - e.g. 0:05:25 it usually lasts about three days, does the Helm wind. Evidence from the mid-twentieth century Survey of English Dialects, such as this speaker recorded in Askrigg in 1960 - 0:00:35 it's a gift, is dry stone walling - suggests this is an older construction as examples of (i) are conspicuously absent from data collected in this study.

(iii) the Northern Irish 'so' variant is illustrated by this speaker recorded by the BBC in Lissummon in 1999 - e.g. 0:00:01 I was a back-seat passenger in a car accident, so I was.

Finally, the more mainstream noun/pronoun-verb tag (e.g. he spends a fortune on clothes, he does) seems to be present in all varieties of English. The prominence it enjoys in the BBC sit-com Gavin & Stacey (e.g. Series 1 Episode 4 - Gwen: Jason's good as gold like that. I miss him terribly, I do) suggests it is potentially more frequent or perhaps serves a particular discourse function in Welsh English.

Jonnie Robinson, Lead Curator for Sociolinguistics writes:

On ITV's Great Night Out last week (episode 3, 25.01.13) the character Hodge handed his mate a birthday card and said Happy Birthday Glynster. Unremarkable perhaps but this coincided with the recent launch of Partridge Slang Online and the publication of the 2nd edition of the wonderful 'New Partridge Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English'. Eric Partridge's original slang dictionary (first published in 1937) ran to 8 editions culminating in 1984 and is rightly acknowledged as the definitive record of 20^th century British slang. The New Dictionary (edited by Tom Dalzell and Terry Victor and now in its 2nd edition) maintains the tradition impressively, enhanced by a more conventional approach to citing published sources and a broader focus to include examples of non-mainstream vocabulary worldwide, albeit restricted to usage since 1945.

The New Dictionary intentionally omits many of the traditional British nicknames Partridge included in earlier versions. Generally attributed to Forces slang, many of these gained more widespread currency such that people my age (born 1964) probably know the odd Smudger (surname Smith), Nobby (surname Clarke), Chalky (surname White), Lofty (anyone considered unnaturally tall or indeed unusually small) or Curly (anyone bald or with straight hair). Given that many of these nicknames are now less common, it's perhaps not surprising they're no longer considered worthy of inclusion. Nonetheless, some clearly remain sufficiently alive in the public consciousness to warrant mainstream cultural reference - witness Lofty Holloway (EastEnders, 1983-1985) and Curly Watts (Coronation Street, 1983-2003). This speaker recorded by the BBC in 2004 in Filey, North Yorkshire also demonstrates continued awareness among speakers of a certain generation:

[19 mins. 49 secs.] only during the war I was obviously a Nobby ... every Clark was called Nobby

Editorial decisions about what to exclude must be a lexicographer's nightmare, but given Partridge's reputation I wonder whether it might be possible in future editions to reconsider entry criteria for nicknames. I've been keeping records for some time and my own data suggests a tendency nowadays (more common among males?) to derive nicknames by adapting surnames. What's intriguing is that there appear to be morpho-phonological (and sociolinguistic) principles at play. Here, with well-known examples from the sporting and broadcasting world, is a selection of productive processes in widespread use in the UK according to my observations.

1. Surnames of one syllable generally acquire the suffix <-y> - e.g. Scholesy (footballer Paul Scholes), Coxy (DJ Sara Cox) and Longy (Rugby League player Sean Long)

2. Polysyllabic surnames can either:

i. be abbreviated to the first syllable + <-o>. This is particularly productive with surnames ending in <-son> - e.g. Lawro (football commentator Mark Lawrenson), Johnno (former Rugby Union player Martin Johnson), Stevo (Rugby League commentator Mike Stephenson)

ii. be abbreviated to the first syllable + <-s> - e.g. Becks (footballer David Beckham), Ramps (cricketer Mark Ramprakash) and Boycs (cricket commentator Geoff Boycott)

iii. be abbreviated to the first syllable + <-ers>. This is possibly more common among middle-class speakers and in private schools - e.g. Aggers (cricket commentator Jonathan Agnew), Chappers (sports broadcaster Mark Chapman) and Tuffers (former cricketer Phil Tufnell)

More recent innovations (arguably emanating from the USA?) include:

3. definite article + the suffix <-meister>, commonly abbreviated to <-ster> - e.g. Hodge's use of Glynster

4. definite article + initial letter + the suffix <-dog> - one of my daughter's teachers whose surname begins with <P>, for instance, is affectionately referred to as the P-dog

There are other variants and, inevitably, occasional exceptions. Olympic Gold Medallist Bradley Wiggins is, of course, neither Wiggs nor Wiggers (he attended a North London comprehensive) but Wiggo. However, anecdotally I sense there are sufficient examples that conform to the rules to support a fledgling 'theory'. Meister, ster and dog all merit entries at Urban Dictionary as do several individual examples of 1 and 2 above but only a respected authority such as Partridge could satisfactorily establish dates, precedent and social/geographic distribution. I wonder if it's time for a forthcoming edition to take note?

Jonnie Robinson. Lead Curator for Sociolinguistics, writes:

Continuing the theme of a recent blog post (there's summat about nowt as gets us goat - 28.11.12) I was struck again over the holiday period by the difficulty of getting the dialogue right in regional and/or period drama. For most Downton Abbey fans the apparent demise of Matthew Crawley at the end of this year's Christmas special was probably the high point in terms of suspense. For me it came at 38 mins. 34 secs. when under-butler Thomas Barrow said fains I tell Mr Carson [= 'I'd rather not tell Mr Carson'].

I suspect much of Downton Abbey's success derives from its affectionate portrayal of sociolinguistic nuances between the aristocratic RP most distinctively represented by Maggie Smith's wonderful Lady Grantham and the various regional vernaculars represented 'downstairs'. The expression fains I is indeed authentic in that it is recorded from this period in authoritative dictionaries (e.g. OED online cites Compton Mackenzie's Sinister Street from 1913: he could shout 'fain I' to be rid of an obligation and 'bags I' to secure an advantage). Dig beneath the surface, however, and I wonder if such a phrase is more likely to belong to the Crawley family's linguistic repertoire than that of a local servant - presumably a Yorkshireman, although Barrow is, I sense, played by Robert James-Collier with a Manchester accent.

During research in the 1950s into children's folklore and customs Peter and Iona Opie collected a wide range of phrases used as truce terms (e.g. pax, barley), when claiming precedence (e.g. bagsy, foggy) or when avoiding undesirable roles or tasks (e.g. fains I, bagsy not me). According to the Opies (Lore and Language of Schoolchildren, 1959 p.140) fains I was pretty much restricted to private school children. Perhaps then, Barrow's use reflects the form most natural to Downton Abbey creator and Ampleforth School Old Boy, Julian Fellowes? Sound recordings made by the Opies are available online and the British Library's Playtimes website features extracts from their survey and similar studies spanning over 100 years. They capture the regional and social variation in children's playground language and offer us a glimpse of what a character like Barrow might have said in this situation. My hunch would be bagsy not tell Mr Carson.

Jonnie Robinson, Lead Curator for Sociolinguistics writes:

I thoroughly enjoyed last night's episode of Last Tango in Halifax, which received deservedly positive reviews after its first showing last week. This BBC romantic comedy stars Derek Jacobi and Anne Reid as Alan and Celia, recently widowed but presented with an unexpected opportunity to rekindle a relationship thwarted sixty years previously when teenage classmates in Halifax.

The first two episodes both ended with sufficiently convincing cliff-hangers for me to want to follow Alan and Celia's journey to its conclusion, but unfortunately I've had to wince professionally on more than one occasion about the disappointing pronunciation of those northern dialect icons, owt [= 'anything'] and nowt [= 'nothing']. There's a cleverly scripted and edited moment in the first episode (approx. 2 mins. 50 secs.) where Celia is talking to her daughter about making contact with an old school friend on the internet, while Alan is having the same conversation with his daughter. As respective daughters look at their mother/father quizzically first Celia, then Alan, insists "it's all nowt". Later on in the same episode (approx. 11 mins. 55 secs.) Gillian, Alan's daughter, shouts exasperatedly at Robbie, her brother-in-law, "you're lucky I let you have owt to do with him".

Perfectly legitimate examples, you might think, of some authentic northern flavour. Yes, but rather frustratingly all three speakers pronounce owt and nowt to rhyme with 'out' so we're in the 'wrong' north, I'm afraid. There are parts of the north of England - East Yorkshire, North Yorkshire, pockets of Lancashire - where owt and nowt rhyme with 'out'. I also sense - probably due to the widespread appeal of a recent advertising slogan (the bread with nowt taken out) - that speakers in many parts of the UK (and, sadly, middle-class northerners) have 're-adopted' the terms almost always with a pronunciation that rhymes with 'out'. In the old West Riding, however, (and in much of the East Midlands) the pronunciation is traditionally one that rhymes with 'oat'.

So how might actors (none of the three quoted above are locals) or dialect coaches know? Well, the British Library has a wonderful collection of materials that document our regional speech in minute detail. Researchers at the University of Leeds conducted the Survey of English Dialects in the 1950s using a questionnaire of over 1300 items, one of which was the local word for 'nothing'. A quick glance at the published SED Basic Materials (Vol 1, Part 3, VII.8.14) shows responses from survey sites dotted around Halifax - Cawood, Golcar, Holmbridge and Skelmanthorpe - were consistently nowt and universally rhymed with 'oat'. Sound recordings from the same survey include spontaneous examples of owt and/or nowt in Cawood, Golcar and Skelmanthorpe and modern recordings capture examples in Osset and extending over the border into Lancashire in nearby places like Burnley and Colne. All of them rhyme with 'oat'.

Thankfully Robbie saves the day by using the 'right' pronunciation (approx. 43 mins. 38 secs.) when he says to Raff, Gillian's son, "this is about Gillian not wanting you to have owt to do wi me". Crucially perhaps, Robbie is played by the brilliant Dean Andrews who, as a Rotherham (i.e. West Riding) lad, wouldn't need to ask. I just wish he'd telt the others!