Hi, if you haven't already worked it out this
is Martin Willett writing from a secret location in the heart of England.
To be more precise I am in front of my sister's children's computer in
a small room at the top of a very large house in a beautiful picture postcard
village on the border of Northamptonshire and Leicestershire. This place
is amazing. It was built in the nineteenth century as a hunting lodge for
some aristo. Don't imagine anything small. I think it is the third largest
building in the village after the Church and the squire's house. It towers
above all the ordinary people's houses. Most of the rooms have 12 foot
high ceilings. Not this one of course, it is in the servant quarters, tucked
into the roof with small windows.
The place is an excellent hotel. My sister has a family of five children
and they often invite friends around. There are three teenage girls asleep
downstairs who I haven't been introduced to.
While the house started life as a hunting lodge it has had a number of
different uses. For most of the time it has been a large private house
but it went into decline. Then it was turned into a private nursing home
for the elderly. That business went into decline as the number of regulations
increased, it closed down and the house was sold off relatively cheaply.
It needed a lot of work doing on it but my sister fell in love with it,
she had been living in the village in the old school house since her she
had her second child.
You could easily spend several hundred thousand pounds on it, but despite
the earnings of two professional lawyers such money is not really available.
So there is a strange mixture of luxury and squalor about the place. It
reeked of old money, and old women's urine. Most of the urine has gone
now.
The main dining room smells just like an English Church; damp, furniture
polish and lilies.
There is a great view from the window of English countryside. I have brought
my binoculars and I think I will be using them later. This place is quite
unlike CH. You can see the sky. The horizon is not very far away, the surrounding
countryside is gently rolling for a long way, so you don't get much sense
of distance but you do get a very clear impression of a flat Earth and
dome sky. At night you can see far more stars than at home because of the
much lower levels of light pollution. About two miles away there is a hill
that is the highest point for 16 miles in any direction. To the East it
is the highest spot this side of Poland.
I am very nearly as far from the sea as it is possible to be in the British
Isles, truly in the heart of England. This is a great place to stay. I
am here with all the family. We came by train yesterday. I will be returning
home next weekend. We had to catch a rail replacement bus service for the
first leg of the journey as they are doing work on the whole of the West
Coast Mainline each weekend through the summer. We were expecting a full
sized bus, we got a minibus. Our driver was a cross between Jesus and Otto
the Springfield schoolbus driver, he obviously wanted to conserve the Earth's
resources by never travelling more than 25 MPH. We made it to the train
with only 30 seconds to spare.
The train took us through The Black Country. This is just North of Birmingham
and was called that because of the pollution from early industry. Although
many schoolchildren these days would think it was called that because of
the number of West Indian and Pakistani people there. At Wolverhampton
and Birmingham stations it was very noticeable. C H has about the national
average proportion of non-white people, much fewer than Wolverhampton,
much more than W, where I am now. I think there might be the odd Scot living
in the village.
I have packed everything I need for the trip. Clothes, toiletries and
my website
What do you feel about that Elizabeth woman? Born in a Scottish castle,
marries the semi-articulate second son of a King, gets shafted and stuck
with being Queen. My son is only five and a half (very important half)
he sighs and says “I'm sick of the Queen-muvver”.
My brother-in-law had an invitation to a Buckingham Palace garden party
earlier in the year. He is a Queens Counsel and gets to wear those ridiculous
full-bottomed wigs in court, he looks like Deputy Dawg. Their eldest daughter
was allowed to go as well, being the eldest unmarried daughter over the
age of 18. She wore a trouser-suit. There was a bit of controversy as to
whether this was allowed. Half the people there are in trousers, it was
noted, but they were men. She felt on safer ground after she saw some men
in kilts, if they could wear skirts she could wear trousers.
There is a standing joke about Belgians. Just ask any British person
to give you a list of Famous Belgians. Not counting Hercule Poirot. They
are supposed to be a nation of nonentities. I came up with a variation
of this; give me a short list of dyed blonde virgins or faithful wives.
It's good for a laugh, or a fight, depending on who you ask. Either way
I think a point is made. I wouldn't do it in the wrong place, I haven't
hit anybody since I was 14. I don't see the appeal of violence as recreation.
New Zealanders? Surely too dull for stereotypes? You
can see why the place is the home of dangerous sports, if you lived there
you would hold your life cheap too. Australians sometimes call them South
Pacific Paddies. Before they play rugby their All Black team does a Maori
dance that is very intimidating. I have often thought that the English
team should counter with the traditional English taunt of the two fingers
and a lively chorus of “Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough.”
I suppose you are quite aware of the two fingered salute? Apparently
it has a long and glorious tradition going back to the Hundred Years
War. English bowmen captured by the French had their bowstring fingers
chopped off, so the salute developed to show that we still had plenty
more to take their place in the line. It is these days treated as the
physical alternative to fuck off but it has real symbolic power. The
English bowman was a threat to the established order. A bowman could
send an armour piercing arrow through the breastplate of any Duke, King
or knight. A single arrow could upset the entire social structure.
I went to Warwick Castle yesterday. It was terrific. My children both
loved it. We saw some rather eye-opening sights. I met a knight on a
warhorse, 19 hands high, with a fully armoured man on his back carrying
a mace. It was a stick the length of a baseball bat and topped off with
a lump of iron like the cylinder of a small motorbike, very nasty. He
was crossing a bridge the other way, I felt he could have killed me with
a flick of his wrist. It really brought home to me how much of an advantage
riding a horse was. It puts in perspective the rise of the Indo-European
languages, when the first mounted soldiers rode into Europe and conquered
all in the immediate pre-historical era. Now virtually every language
in Europe from Portuguese and Welsh through German and Greek to Sanskrit
is derived from the children of those first cavalry. And it also helped
me to understand how a few hundred mounted Spaniards could defeat armies
of tens of thousands of Meso-American troops unused to facing a mounted
foe.
There were tourists there from all over. Stereotype mid Westerners in
shorts and those caps only prairie farmers wear. Australian women, six
foot tall and very loud. And dozens of Japanese schoolgirls :-)
Diana. The moment I heard the news I went "Oh, no this is going
to be awful" I was right. There are only two ways a significantly
below average intellect can become famous in this country, being Royal
or playing sport. Even actors and musicians usually have a bit of something
about them. She actually cost me my job. I was designing kitchens at
the time. Then nobody wanted to bother buying anything except flowers.
I had to give the job up because of lack of work.
The worst thing about the whole Diana thing is that she died aged the
same age as Marilyn Monroe, so history will never tell of her decline
from favour as her looks deteriorated. Not that she was that pretty to
start with, as she got older she developed that big nose horsy look the
British aristocracy is prone to.
I can quite understand your distaste at seeing the Confederate flag
raised. I would be inclined to think of a way to attack it from a distance;
catapult, flaming arrow, super-soaker filled with ink. Or perhaps you
could reply with a flag or two of your own that might get up his nose?
What about the UN flag, South Africa, Cuba and North Korea? But then
again anybody with an intellect like that would probably not recognize
them. Anyway I have to sign off now. Send any reply to the usual address,
I'll be home tomorrow. I'll be getting some pictures scanned today, I
expect I shall find some material for my site.
You say that it must be odd sharing a political entity with another
nation. I suppose it is, it must be weird to have a neighbour waving
another flag at you and constantly harping on about their battles with
you in the past. It would make anybody want to go and tear down the flag.
;-)
We get the odd Scot lunatic screeching "Remember Bannockburn",
apparently the Scots won that one, as if anybody really gives a shit.
Basically they lost most of the important battles and then it became
easier all round to form the union, there never was a take-over of Scotland.
I don't really know a lot about the issue, I have no desire to see the
film, I think a lot of Scots like Braveheart even though they know it's
mostly bullshit. I understand it is about as historically accurate as
Disney's Pocahontas. Only the names haven't been changed to help the
story. I suppose any film that shows your nation as heroic defenders
of liberty must be enjoyable to watch. I don't think I can recall any
such films about England, well, certainly none made in colour.
I think you are right about Led Zeppelin. They are not really in the
mythical category here, they are big but not gods.
What do you think about having a Jew running for VP? Is it brave or
stupid? Are you scared by the idea of a kosher Sabbath observer in the
White House? Is it an issue or is everybody too scared of the issue to
address it? I suspect the party might think it might as well have a Jew
go down as another WASP male. I was there for Mondale and Ferraro, I
saw Geraldine Ferraro speak in Hartford. That was when I had my run-in
with the Secret Service. It is hard to forget a man with a transparent
earpiece walk towards you with his hand under his jacket and ask what
you are doing in this restricted area. The speech was good and she did
a good job, but there is always the suspicion that they let her try knowing
she could never win. But then again that is not really the way things
work, I don't believe in conspiracies.
On the subject of guns what do think about gun control? I think guns
are too dangerous to be allowed in the hands of anybody who wants to
carry one. In this country guns are not carried by most police and the
few that do carry them are very carefully selected and trained. I had
a chance to talk with one of these men a few months ago. He worked at
Manchester Airport. We don't have many armed police about but when we
need them we don't mess about. He wears a bullet proof vest and has a
9mm carbine clipped to his chest all day. I can honestly say that I have
never talked to anybody as level headed in my life. It made me feel a
lot safer. He didn't relish the idea of a fire-fight at the airport but
I have absolutely no doubt he would be capable of doing a thoroughly
capable job of very discriminate slaughter if required.
I think all the arguments of the gun lobby are bogus and dangerous.
What chance has any nation got of invading the USA? That has been totally
out of the question for over 150 years. A well regulated militia? Give
me a break. It really is time you got some consensus to change those
outmoded bits of your constitution. Why not do what we do in England?
We have never had one, never felt the need of it, we all play by the
same rules, and they can evolve over time, like manners.
I see that your military has checked out my site again. I am up to 7
hits from .MIL addresses. I wonder if I can boost that up by keyword
stuffing? Trident nuclear secret Cuba Russia device atomic briefcase
bomb CIA assassinate beware the ides of march on the Whitehouse neutron
bomb air launched missile. :-)
Why does playing petty games like that satisfy me so much? And what
do you make of those losers who write things like this:-
Who do they think they are going to fool by doing that? Any 12 year
old hacker could defeat that code.
What is it with soup? Why do people think all the poor want is soup?
What's wrong with pizza? Anyway, I had better sign off, I have a lot
of material to put on the site tomorrow. Stand by for some big changes.
I have two full days off at home in front of the computer and enough
ideas to fill a whole week. It will be worth checking things out again
soon.
You are a country of immigrants, relatively recent immigrants too. You
are all in a conspiracy of reassurance. Yes we made the right choice,
aren't things better here!? The good ole US of A, love it or leave it.
We are not like that. Most of us, like me, have no oral history of anything
except living here. Intellectually we may know that our ancestors came
here from continental Europe but it is not something we know by direct
experience.
In contrast a significant proportion of Americans have a family oral
history that can name the first Americans in their family. Or at least
that is what I believe, tell me if I'm wrong.
The first ancestor who lived in England? Haven't got a clue. I expect
the direct male line runs from a man who either came over with the Normans
or was a close vassal of one. The name is of French derivation, but very
early, so that the W has replaced what would originally have been the
G in the first name; Willett is basically a diminutive of William. Little
Willie. (I think those genes must have been diluted well later, my Grandfather
was known as Big Dick Willett). I also suspect I have a strong sprinkling
of Viking in the mix. But I would be very surprised if I was not mostly
Angle, Saxon and Jute. I certainly felt quite at home in Germany, and
nobody gave me a second glance.
This is not just of academic interest. When I visited my sister recently
I noticed that the crowds of people milling about in Northamptonshire
and Warwickshire were quite subtly different to those in Stockport. The
original racial mix must have been slightly different. Still mongrels,
but slightly different. So subtle that I couldn't quite put my finger
on it, and I couldn't identify an archetype, but taken as a whole the
crowds were not the same. Probably less Viking blood down in the midlands.
You can certainly tell the difference in some parts of the country. Bristol
and Leeds are quite different, a lot more blondes and redheads in Leeds.
Essex is also famous for the Essex girls, blonde, easy of virtue and
not intellectual titans. There are a large number of Essex girl jokes
circulating. But I can't remember any in detail. I'll do a search for
some later. A lot of the British class system is also subtly about race,
in a similar way to the Indian caste system, at least it was in origin.
Dental standards.
I suppose there may be something in it. We have a
stereotype of all American children having all their teeth straightened
or capped in their teenage years. I have had no such work done. Quite
a few amalgam fillings when I was younger, probably more than was actually
required. If I was a Californian I would probably have had them all
capped, because they are far from snow white in colour. But in this country
we don't waste money on such things, they are good strong teeth and reasonably
regular. Austin Powers is a cruel caricature, about par for the course
for Hollywood. I did hear a theory that David Bowie used to be a rock
genius until he had his teeth fixed. I am a little doubtful of the
explanatory power of dentistry and musical talent but it does appeal
a little. I can't help thinking about the Osmonds.
Conspiracy theories. I hate them. Just think of the classic one. Take
the country with the largest number of privately owned firearms and a
huge population of lunatics. The most powerful political office in all
recorded history. The most charismatic holder of that office. He gets
shot and a lone gunman is arrested, he seems to be slightly off his head.
Is a conspiracy the most likely option? Well I suppose you could say
that the conspirators wanted you to think that. But conspiracies are
like quicksand, you get sucked in and start to doubt everything and everybody.
Who really benefits from conspiracies? Conspiracy theorists who write
books and make films. For them mystery is better than fact. What are
the greatest crime stories in history? Not the straight forward ones
but the eternal mysteries; Lizzie Borden, Jack the Ripper etc. Mystery
sells. It also suits the UFOlogists too. The last thing these writers
want is for ET to land at the UN building and offer a friendship treaty.
They want mystery, eternal mystery if possible.
Whoops, I forgot to finish my main point. You are a nation of immigrants,
reassuring each other. We are not. In our schools now there is very little
teaching about how good our nation is. Our flags are rarely seen and
when they are flown the PC lobby actually complains that they might offend
black people. This I find absurd. The black immigrants to this country
came here out of choice, in the majority of cases at least, why should
the flag of the nation they chose be offensive to them? The fight loving
posers who pretend they are right wing politicians, the British National
Party, the National Front and such like, use the flag as a symbol of
white supremacy and national pride in bigotry. This is offensive to everybody.
I have just seen my counter this morning, 999. I had a strong temptation
to load up another browser and be visitor 1000, but I will let somebody
else do that instead.
[Please ignore this entire post, I am totally pissed as a fart. A bloke
I used to work with asked me to do some work for him on the computer, "Thirty
Quid" I said, "yes" he said.
Well what could I do? I did it, had fun, took his cash and bought two
bottles of South African red. Want some? I think there is a glassful
left. Oh, that's my glass...well..bottoms up! I've still twenty quid
left and the wife is away 'til Friday.]
Cromwell a hero? Are you kidding? Do you think that perhaps the leader
of the FIRST revolution of the modern era was not actually a hero in
his own country? Err. yes, you're right. Most people cheer for the bloke
with the gigalo moustache and far too many curls, Charles II. Cromwell
was a flawed character but he was a revolutionary leader. He was English.
He did do unspeakable things in Ireland to the Catholics but even so,
no, he isn't really a hero.
It is probably due to the haircuts. The Roundheads had short hair. I
have fairly short hair myself, at the moment, but only because I enjoy
having sex. Given the choice I would have long hair like, er, like the
one in Status Quo who isn't the blond one. I would have like, HAIR, down...to
here..yeah. And a beard. A beard in which you could hide three ferrets;
and a lobster. Yeah. A big beard. Bigger than Darwin. Yeah, he was a
guy you could trust. BIG beard. Looks like God, but not as mean, he didn't
like wasps laying eggs inside caterpillars. Bright bloke that Darwin,
he had a beard you know? I got a picture somewhere... Smart chappie that
Darwin, have i SAID THAT? OOPS HIT THE WRONG KEY.there. back to normal
again. :-)
My nephew has got a pony-tail. Good on him. I told him I would like
one too. Bloody wife won't let me. But I can sort of see her point. I
used to have sideburns but they went grey. (That's "gray" to
you rebellious colonials) . S'funny, when I was young I expected there
to be a gap between getting spots and getting grey hairs. Fat chance.
You know that bloke on the Simpsons that runs the shop that sells baseball
cards? My new role model. Fat, clever, hairy. When I met my wife I was
the same height and weight as Arnie Swartzenegger. ( Same weight, not
the same shape). Now I weigh the same as Oliver Hardy. (When he was alive,
obviously.)
You mention the military visiting my site. I'm not really bothered.
I would be worried if they were visiting and not showing up on the counter...oh
shit. A large proportion of the hits are from “Unknown” domains.
Are they really out to get me? Well, if they are I have given enough
clues as to where to find me. Like my name and address for one.
What are they going to do? Abduct me? These conspiracy theorists make
me laugh. They encode their signatures and add nospam.nospam@nospam to
their e-mail addresses. Who are they trying to kid, themselves? Are they
so important that a little unsolicited e-mail is going to cause then
physical pain? Give me a break. They are nobodies, they will always be
nobodies. Just like me.
You want to know about the class system. Sorry. That is classified information.
Need to know only. You are not allocated research access to this level.
It is very subtle and fluid. Just like the codes of the Nazis and the
gays, just when you think you might have cracked it they change it again.
Your system is quite simple, it follows the golden rule, those with
the gold make the rules, but ours is much more subtle. It started in
1066. William the Conqueror came over with far too few people to subdue
the entire country by force alone. The class system really starts then.
It is a racial divide between the Normans at the top, the Anglo-Saxon
leadership in the middle and anybody else at the bottom. That is why
blondes are stupid and easy. Not our sort don't you know? Viking types,
riff-raff, Danes, they eat their young don't you know? Yes, alright to
have as maids, or for a bit of hows-your-father, but you don't MARRY
them boy, you don't marry them.
In a way everybody in England is a victim of the class system. People
always get beaten up for being in the wrong class at school. I got
beaten up because I talked posh. Didn't get me into fucking Oxford though
did it? Bastards. I said BASTARDS! You can get beaten up for being a
yokel, a townie, a boff or a pleb. (Country person, town dweller, scholar
or poor loser).
In the village my nieces and nephews live in the worst thing to be is
a townie, they wear Kappa clothes, I mean, how dare they? It's just so
naff.
Well, better go now, the second bottle's empty.
I don't know who broke into my house last night and sent some e-mail.
It wasn't me.
That reminds me of things my little nieces used to say, “nobody
put three biscuits in the video” and “somebody wee-ed in
my knickers”
I only had a beard once. It was very curly and quite reddish in colour.
It seems every part of my anatomy sprouts hair of different colour. Although
I think it will be becoming more uniform with age. White. I found a white
chest hair last week, very depressing. At least I'm not going bald.
I am developing a theory about baldness, short hair and fighting. It
needs a little work doing on it. But briefly it goes something like
this:-
So what if you can beat me in a fight, fighting isn't important.
So what if you can beat me at sport, it is trivial anyway.
So what if you get better grades at school, there's more to life than
that.
So what if her breasts are bigger than mine, looks aren't everything.
So what if I going bald, look I shave it all off, hair isn't important.
I think it is significant that hair styles in all cultures vary but
it is very rare for women to shave it off and men grow it. Crew cuts,
shaved heads, skinheads and the like are all down to male vanity, so
what if I haven't got much hair, I don't want it anyway. I think it
looks better like this, yeah, hair, who needs it?
Naff.
It isn't in my pocket dictionary. But my trusty Oxford Compendium gives
me:-
naff1 // v.intr. Brit. slang 1 (in imper., foll. by off) go away.
2 (as naffing adj.) used as an intensive to express annoyance etc. [probably
euphemism for fuck: cf. eff]
naff2 // adj. Brit. slang
1 unfashionable, tasteless.
2 worthless, rubbishy. [20th c.: origin unknown]
I have heard the theory that it stands for Nasty As Fuck
I think Oxford has it right, especially unfashionable and tasteless.
Also similar to the now quaintly old fashioned expression INFRA DIG.
from the Latin for beneath our dignity. (As if I know any Latin).
Naff Off was a common phrase in the 1970s after the widespread popularity
of "Porridge", a BBC sit com set in a prison, starring Ronnie
Barker. To get the flavour of prison life there had to be lots of swearing
but TV audiences would not stand for the usual fuck words. So the writer,
Ian La Frenais (sp?) used naff instead. It was so popular that apparently
Princess Anne picked it up and frequently told journalist and photographers
to naff orf. But that is meaning 1 as given by Oxford, I was using meaning
2.
Where do the Scots Welsh and Americans fit into the class system? The
traditional answer would be to say slightly lower than fleas on the underside
of sewer rats. But the truth is that class cuts horizontally. You don't
get your class from your nationality. I can't help thinking of Imram
Khan, the former Captain of the Pakistani cricket team, a man so good
looking he turns men gay and women orgasm as he speaks. He was an Oxbridge
educated gentleman. To the Oxbridge set he was one of them, OK he was
a wog, but he was one of their wogs. So being Asian, Moslem even, didn't
stand in the way. He was upper class, and accepted.
The class system is enormously subtle and it changes. It might have
started as racially divided but now it has its own logic. So if you came
over here you would be treated as middle class until they could pigeon-hole
you better. A school teacher from Edinburgh or Idaho would have the same
status as one from Epsom. And the same for an unemployed petty criminal.
A Prince is a Prince, a pauper is a pauper. Except perhaps the English
upper class treat foreign peasants with more respect than the home-grown
variety.
My mother is an awful snob and she sucks up to posh people at any opportunity.
She sucks up to some African minor Princeling she met at a joint conference
between prison officers and social workers. He looks so black you want
to adjust the contrast control on your eyes, but he is posh, so she was
all over him. She stays in contact with him and allows/encourages people
to assume that she is having an affair with him. Her new found hobby,
breeding rare breed pigs and highland cattle, allows her to meet lots
of posh people, especially at agricultural shows. This is a way for her
to appear much more rich and full of status than she really is. “We
landowners must stick together” She owns a third of what was a borderline
viable farm back in the 1970s. She talks to me about my inheritance and
the estate. About 20 acres, no house and some old run-down farm buildings.
She mixes with landowners who own a dozen or so large profitable farms.
She loves the idea of driving up to Scotland to buy a cow from a Duke.
She is much more interested in the breeding of the breeders than their
livestock. I could waffle on for ever about class and not explain it
properly. I think you have a lot of the same elements in your class system
but the emphasis is slightly different. You have the distinctions between
new money and old money and whether or not you had ancestors in the Colonial
era or on the Mayflower.
But you also have a much faster way to the top for the people with money.
In contrast Richard Branson is just some middle class lad who doesn't
even wear a tie. OK he has millions, but that isn't everything, he will
never be upper class. His children might be. Money laundering. It takes
a generation or so to wash the smell of sweat and effort off the money.
Spelling variation.
So grey and gray are equally acceptable? I am involved with spelling
controversy because of the ise ize endings. Microsoft says if I live
in the UK I must prioritise, all Microsoft products use this new spelling
variation. I don't spell very well but I have taken up the idea of sticking
to the traditional English spelling. I will not apologize for it. The
trouble is now that Dreamweaver will let me use ize but Outlook Express
wants me to use ise. I think I must have been taught to use ise at school
but I think I want to stick with the older way, the way that does not
diverge from the common core of the language. Maybe that has something
to do with coming from the North and resenting savernas torkin abart
graaars and baaarth (southerners talking about grass and bath). The short
a vowel sound was the original, the long aa sound is a recent invention.
We Northerners resisted it, rightly, and so still speak the Queen's English
in the way the previous Elizabeth would have recognized.
Have you heard people say they are as old as they feel? In some ways
I feel as old as those photos on my site. They are all from the 80s,
apart from the really old one of me as a scout. The latest one would
be the one with my wife, apart from the black and white one which is
about a year and a half old. I grabbed them from my sister's family album
while I was there and had access to the colour scanner. The one I have
on my desk is only capable of 16 grey shades. I don't have a lot of more
recent pictures.
I didn't take offence about your remarks about teeth. A few weeks ago
you had the nerve to take my country to task for exporting S Club 7.
All I can say in return is Daphne and Celeste. I think that makes us
more than even.
Webster. Bastard. He caused no end of trouble. I think part of his motivation
was reasonable but he didn't go far enough and went too far at the same
time. A radical overhaul of spellings was not a bad idea but to do it
in the way he did was wrong. Such an overhaul should wait until there
is more unity in the English speaking world so a consensus can emerge.
Without a consensus change is just disruption. But I think it is as well
now to keep all the quaint spellings and unusual verb endings. Children
benefit from learning anything, obscure spelling rules and grammatical
complexity are probably better than wasting their brains on the names
of sportsmen or the performance figures of sportscars they will never
drive. Any fool can learn a simple language, a beautiful, inclusive and
evolved language develops the brain more.
I have never been to Ireland, North or South. My family go there a lot
during the school holidays, they go on daytrips from Holyhead (top left
hand corner of Wales) on the fast ferries to Dublin with my mother-in-law.
She now lives in North Wales. I used to speak to Irish people quite a
bit on the radio; 11 metre band, grown-up and illegal version of CB,
and 45 metre band, very very very naughty radio that can get you seriously
busted. In the UK using 45 metres was very risky and the rule was that
you only ever used a single first name, not your own, and never gave
your location to within less than fifty miles. The people from the Irish
Republic gave you their address and invited you in for tea and to stay
for a week or two.
I have a lot of time for the Irish people, but none for their nationality
squabbles or any of their religions. My grandfather used to talk about
the Irish a lot, he was sent to Ireland in 1918 for his army basic training,
but was spared a place in the war by the armistice. In later life he
used to employ Irishmen as casual labour on the farm and he delighted
in tales of their unusual ways of looking at problems. The popularity
of the Irish joke is based on a real phenomenon, the culture clash of
the rural Irish casual labourer in England. It had little to do with
intelligence but the joke has been degraded over the years to a stereotype
of stupidity. Can you imagine what would happen if you took an Amish
and put him in an electrical goods store? It gives you a flavour of what
happened in the early part of the twentieth century when rural Irishmen
came over to make money quickly in England.
When my sister was 15 or so she met a boy from Hollywood, County Down.
She was totally besotted with him. He later married her best friend,
whose sister was my first girlfriend. The first girl I ever slept with,
when she was 13, but I only slept, nothing more. I can remember him
saying that in Northern Ireland the sky was never lit up like it was
in England, by all the thousands of orange coloured sodium street lights.
Even in the 1970s the difference between Ireland and England was quite
a culture shock, even for a man who knew Belfast.
I know what you mean about Irish voices. I prefer most to Mancunians
any day, softer and more melodic. But there are some terrible staccato
Irish accents too that grate terribly. Some Irish people talk very fast
and sound quite dangerous. There is almost as much variation as in American
accents.
Accents are strange aren't they? There is a lot of similarity between
New Zealand and Australia and between Canada and USA. Many outsiders
get them confused. In a way all the Southern hemisphere accents have
some degree of family resemblance. There is also a lot of similarity
in all white Africans; Kenyans, South Africans and Zimbabweans. I was
talking to a white man and his black wife a while ago and I knew they
were Africans, it was obvious that they weren't Caribbeans, Europeans
or Americans, but I couldn't place their accents to anywhere more precise.
(Gold Coast, I should have known!) In contrast I can tell the difference
between local accents around here to very quite a small area. Fifteen
minutes by car and the accent changes enough for even an outsider to
tell there is a difference.
I never had hair quite long enough to put in a pony tail although I
could suck it at times and my ears did not see the light of day from
the age of 9 to 29. I wore beads at 17. Beard at 24. Moustache at 25.
Now my hair is kept fairly short apart from the front which gives me
enough length to part it, on the right. Since I have started to grey
a little on my sideburns I shave a bit higher up. As I said before, given
the choice I would be very hairy. But marriage is about choices and compromise.
I will compromise on some things. Hair doesn't really matter.
Do our politicians have vested interests? In the main no. They are a
good bunch, 90% are motivated by personal morality, there is very little
to be cynical about with our politicians, although the public perception
of them is low. Not as low as the perception of your politicians though.
Wag the Dog and the like seem rather like documentaries to a lot of the
British public.
My parents both live (separately) in the only constituency in Britain
that has an Independent Member of Parliament. His name is Martin Bell.
He was a BBC war correspondent until shortly before the last election.
He took up the fight against Neil Hamilton (pictured), the sitting Conservative
MP, who was accused of being a complete scumbag and corrupt, ironically
enough by, many others, Mohammed Fayed (aka Mohammed al Fayed, al being
an Egyptian equivalent of Sir or Lord, an honour he has no claim to)
the owner of Harrods, father of Dodi Fayed. This was the modern day equivalent
of the pot calling the kettle black. It is widely acknowledged that Mr
Fayed is so bent he could hide behind a corkscrew.
Fayed is now a figure of fun with many semi-skilled impressionists going
into a routine about him
“Where's me fuggin' passport? Dis country owes me a passport. It's
dat fuggin' Prince fuggin' Phil the Greek dat won't give me it. Dis country
is fuggin' corrupt, dey always takes my money and still no fuggin' passport.”
The previous Conservative candidate for the constituency was a typical
old school Tory, moral but misguided. When Neil Hamilton was selected
he was instantly and universally detested. He simply oozed slime and
fake charm. Both my parents refused to consider voting for him, personally,
although they were not unreceptive to the Conservative party. I don't
know how corrupt he was but he is simply the kind of person who I could
believe anything of. He was accused of taking bribes and everybody believed
it, although he has always denied it. Martin Bell announced he would
stand as a champion of the people. It will make a great film one day,
no doubt with an American cast as Bell. He was the man in the nearly
white suit. Both the Liberal Democrat and Labour candidates stood down
to let him have a clear run against Hamilton. My mother had a great time
in the election, she put up posters everywhere for Bell. He won and promised
to represent all the people of the constituency but for just one term.
There was a libel case recently, with Fayed and Hamilton, everybody
hoped they could both lose. In the end Hamilton lost big time and was
bankrupted by it.
Items to muse on.
I would be interested if you give me comments on the following words
and whether or not they are used much or at all in America.
Sorry that they are all crude but I am interested in why you took shit,
ass (from arse) and fuck so readily but seemingly ignored these.
Wank To masturbate. Wanker Person who masturbates. Stupid person. e.g.. “what
does that wanker think he's playing at? Is he going to overtake or does
he need a written invitation?”
wanker // n. Brit. coarse slang 1 a contemptible or ineffectual person.
2 a person who masturbates. (Concise Oxford Dictionary)
Fanny Cunt, especially the outer part of the genitalia.
fanny // n. (pl. -ies) 1 Brit. coarse slang the female genitals. 2 N.Amer.
slang the buttocks. [20th c.: origin unknown] (Concise Oxford Dictionary)
Fanny Adams / / n. Brit. slang
1 (also sweet Fanny Adams) nothing at all.
2 Naut. a tinned meat. b stew. [name of a murder victim c.1870]
Usage (Concise Oxford Dictionary)
Sweet FA : Fuck All. A useful double entendre for sports commentators
commenting on the efficacy of the Football Association, especially
as an excuse for why the England team have not won World Cup more than
once. Any comments?
I was wrong Daphne and Celeste were NOT bottled
off at Reading. They were troopers. Fifty Cent was bottled off another
year. Wuss. Daphne and Celeste took it and kept smiling the whole
time. RESPECT! OK, they couldn't sing but they sure could fulfil
a contractual obligation.
I am still waiting to hear you comment on Daphne and Celeste. I
read that they had a hard time at the Reading and Leeds festivals,
basically driven off stage by a rain of bottles full of piss. While
I wouldn't normally condone any act of violence I have to admit that
the mental image that news created did cause a slight twitch at the
corners of my mouth. Those naughty girls need taking in hand and
spanking, quite hard, on their bare quivering young buttocks until
they tingle all over. They are the embodiment of America, trashy,
tasteless and terrible but sexy with it. Fascinating and enfuriating.
I hate them in my face but want them on my face.
So you have never heard of Daphne and Celeste. I should have guessed
as much. That makes perfect sense. It is always easier to launch a pop
career if you already seem popular, and going abroad makes it looks like
you are an international hit.
They haven't had a number one yet so I guess you won't hear from them
until they do. Watch out around Christmas time. I think they are on their
third go at hitting it big. Three songs in quick succession, released
heavily to MTV and other music channels, and some children's TV appearances
too. They are being hyped very professionally. All their video look as
if they are made in America for the home market. So it was reasonable
for everybody to assume that they were somebody over there.
Places to visit in Britain?
You could spend a year as a tourist in London, seriously. London is
in a river valley at the closest part to the continent of Europe, as
such it has it's own micro-climate. London is literally 2 degrees hotter
than the rest of Britain in summer. It also has another strange effect,
temperature in the Greater London area is constantly above the evaporation
temperature of money. Money leaves your pockets at a far greater rate
than anywhere else in the country. Partly this is due to everything being
more expensive, party because there are is more to see, do and buy.
I have not been to London for quite a while, I haven't had the money.
There is a lot to see but you do need to have plenty of money available
to spend. Virtually every city in Britain has some history and culture
to offer, and on a more modest scale. With the exception of Birmingham.
It is like an American city at its worst. It sprawls on for miles to
no great purpose. But most places have plenty to offer.
Liverpool and Bristol have a multi cultural feel and seafaring connections,
evidence of shipping, the empire, the slave trade and so on. York and
Chester are good too, certainly on the tourist route but for good reason.
Chester has lots of Roman connections, York has a lot of Viking stuff.
There are many excellent museums and so on around my part of the world
and a reasonable distance around. Several northern cities have one
special museum in them, world centres for particular subjects.
A place you must try to get to is Blackpool. It is buttock clinchingly
awful, delightful and totally unself conscious. It is a real tourist
attraction for British tourists, day trippers and longer stays too. There
is the Pleasure Beach which has the biggest rollercoaster in Europe,
many Americans come just for that. The view from the top of the first
drop is stunning, you look like you are going to end up a pavement pizza
on the main road across the seafront, and this was, until a month ago,
the highest point on any roller coaster in the world. The scale and perspective
is amazing because you are looking at real cars below you and then you
are on your way to join them at 75 MPH, about 10 degrees off a vertical
drop. I haven't ridden it, I get terrified looking at it, being so big
and right in the heart of the town. Blackpool is worth going to for the
same reason than Sodom would have been worth going to. But for anybody
with taste one or two days would be your limit.
Here's something for you, rhyming slang. You might have heard about
cockney rhyming slang, but nowadays it is a wider phenomena. The classic
one is Apples, for apples and pairs, stairs, Banal. I'm going up the
frog (frog and toad, road) and me plates are hurtin' (plates of meat,
feet) There are loads of them , many are obscure like ruby for curry
(Who Ruby Murray was I don't know, must be before my time.)
One that might interest you is Barclays. Named after one of Britain's
largest banks. So you could use your "British accent" to say
that after noticing the shirt potatoes on that bird you are going off
for a Barclays. And then you get clever you can try DOUBLE rhyming slang.
The classic being aris. "Oh 'arold, since I 'ad that ruby me aris
is on fire." Aris, for Aristotle, for bottle, for bottle and glass,
arse (cockney pronunciation of glass as glarse) And just to really throw
you off the scent there is Glaswegian rhyming slang too. The classic
being Mick. For Mick Jagger, lager. It only works in an authentic Glaswegian
accent.
Bubble Gum Wrappers
Daphne and
Celeste are bubble gum rappers, sort of. Bouncy poppy bubble
gum style pop with a lot of back talking and insults. Sorry, I'll
leave it at that for now I spent a whole day on catching up on e-mail.
I'll finish this off tomorrow.
[Daphne & Celeste are now officially Error 404. They have ceased
to exist, it seems their record company has got fed up of financing an
unsuccesful act.]
They're still cute though.
