Another guest post from the wonderful Jags Arthurson. I will be back next week with new posts!
Jags Arthurson is the pen name of a Brighton, UK writer. Jags has been a research chemist and company director. He has lived and worked in over 40 countries. His novel, the crime thriller Pagan Justice, is available on Amazon with all proceeds going to charity.
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I’m a Londoner by birth, and there seems to be a perception around the world that all Londoners are Cockneys. That is not true. To be a real Cockney one needs to be born within the sound of The Bow Bells: the carillon of the church of St Mary-le-Bow in the East End of London. The bells do not actually need to be ringing at the time of birth, which is fortunate as they did not ring at all from when the church was bombed in World War II until 1961 when the restoration was complete. Otherwise, we would have lost an entire generation of Cockneys.
The church and its predecessors have stood on this site since about the 8th century, and you don’t need to be a linguist to see the French influence in the name.
It was Cockney Londoners who suffered 57 days of sustained bombing in the so-called Blitz in 1940 in which 300 were killed, 1,200 were seriously injured, and thousands were made homeless. In the whole war about 30,000 Londoners were killed. Cockneys invented The Blitz Spirit of keeping going no matter how dire the situation.
The term Cockney was, in Middle English, an insult that country people applied to city dwellers whom they regarded as weak, soft, effete, or simpletons. Geoffrey Chaucer in The Reeve’s Tale has the cuckolded miller saying:
And when this jape is told another day,
I shall be held a daffe or a cockenay.
Like many insults, those insulted stole it and “owned” it. And I’m not sure I would have wanted to call the average London docker “weak, soft, effete, or a simpleton.”
Cockneys have their own particular (and some might say peculiar) customs. The Pearly Kings and Queens are all Cockneys. If you’ve never seen one I suggest you ask Professor Google for some photos. Their traditional food was said to be stewed eels.
It’s the Cockney accent that Dick Van Dyke aimed for in Mary Poppins (and missed by such a huge margin that he actually apologised for it several years later.) But the really interesting thing about their “dialect” is Cockney Rhyming Slang.
Every subgroup develops its own vernacular as I know from experience … sometimes I find it easier to converse with my Spanish friends than my 18-year-old grandson! Such argot has many uses. It acts as a social adhesive, identifying who is in and, often more importantly, who is not. For that reason criminals invariably use their own slang, which they hope their victims and the police won’t understand. Also, like business jargon, it provides a verbal shorthand that avoids long descriptions or explanations when the topic is one that, though mystifying to the uninitiated, is familiar to the speakers.
The docks in East London were once the busiest in the world, and thousands were involved in loading and unloading cargoes that came from around the Empire and, of course, trading the produce. Rhyming slang was believed to have developed among the market traders so they could communicate without their customers knowing what they were saying.
What is interesting about rhyming slang is that it is so comprehensive. Almost every single item one may mention has a rhyming slang equivalent. It’s also very easy to learn.
So here we go, your first lesson in Cockney Rhyming Slang.
German bands = hands. Barnett Fair = hair.
See how it works? A nice, snappy phrase that rhymes with the object under discussion. So now you’re an expert.
WOAH!!! STOP!!!
Because here’s where the uninitiated reveal themselves. It wouldn’t be much of a “secret code” if listeners could make an educated guess at the meaning, would it? So a true Cockney would never say, “Apples and Pears” for stairs. He or she would only ever say, “Apples.” Those who speak the lingo will be able to mentally complete the phrase and follow the conversation. Outsiders will be lost in seconds.
The rhymes can be taken from any area of life. Quite common are the names of famous people: Gregory (Peck) = neck, Bob (Hope) = dope (marijuana), and so on. Like all languages, it evolves. Those of my generation would go out for a Ruby (Murray) = curry, because the lady was a famous British singer of the fifties whereas the youth of today would have an “Andy,” after the world famous tennis star.
If only having half the phrase is not complicated enough, some of the more unseemly words may even be double-encoded, so Aris (totle) gives us “bottle,” but that leads us to ‘bottle and glass’ (and you can take it the rest of the way on your own.)
Rhyming slang has even gone international. The next time you hear somebody call money ‘bread’ remember that it was once “bread and honey.” Or a prisoner “doing bird” may not even know it was originally “bird lime,” time.
So, are you up for a bit of rhyming slang? (Don’t forget that any modifications that would be made to the unspoken part of the phrase now have to be made to the spoken part. “Boat’” (race) is “face” but “faces” can’t be “Boat races”; it has to be “Boats.”
See if you understand this.
I was out for a ball down the frog when I met me old china, the bubble who cashed me skin. We went for a kitchen at the rubber and had a few pigs. He got totally Brahms so when we left he was tom and his trouble went radio.
Want some clues?
Ball of chalk
Frog and toad
China plate
Bubble and squeak
Cash and Carry
Skin and blister
Kitchen sink
Rub-a-dub-dub
Pig’s ear
Brahms and Liszt
Tom and Dick
Trouble and strife
Radio Rental
I was out for a walk down the road when I met my old mate (friend) the Greek who married my sister. We went for a drink at the pub and had a few beers. He got totally pissed (drunk) so when we left he was sick and his wife went mental.
So now you’re ready for your next trip to London.
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