The Obscurer

Saturday 23rd April 2005

The Other Saint George

I’m a week out. Last Saturday I was lying by the pool at the Hotel San Gorg in Malta. Today, on St George’s Day itself, I am back in Blighty, home of Shakespeare, Darwin, Churchill … in fact, lots of people other than St George himself.

I won’t be taking up the invitation from my local pub (the George and Dragon, naturally) to celebrate St George’s Day. I’m not particularly unpatriotic as such, but I certainly wouldn’t count myself as a patriot. I’m not exactly sure what I should be celebrating anyway. The slaying of a dragon? The life and times of a largely mythical character who is also the patron saint of Portugal, Catalonia, Venice and Genoa amongst others at the last count? Englishness itself? I don’t think I’ll bother.

I am quite happy to count myself as English, this despite the fact that the majority of my relations are Scottish. I just see my Englishness as being more a quirk of fate than a source of pride. There are things Anglian that do stir my spirit – the sound of leather on willow, a wattle and daub country pub, Greensleeves – but St George himself doesn’t really do it for me.

I am not criticising those who will be celebrating today, that is up to them; it is rubbish to equate such festivities with racism. Sure, the racist will be celebrating tonight, but they also commemorate Christmas and birthdays; they probably like eating steak and chips and playing monopoly. Just because some racists engage in an activity clearly does not make that activity racist in itself; just because the BNP will be having a hot pot supper tonight doesn’t mean we shouldn’t also mark the day. Indeed, if this day is reclaimed as a genuine source of English pride, then so much the better. I will also sympathise with anyone who is prevented from flying the cross of St George today by some politically correct council; although actual, genuine and bone fide examples of such actions by local authorities often proves to be about as thin on the ground as real facts about St George’s existence.

It is often said that the English do not celebrate their patron saint, but this is not strictly true. In my youth it was usually marked by letters to the editor of the Daily Telegraph bemoaning the fact that no-one makes a fuss about St George’s Day. More recently, there has been a growing move to observe the event as a reaction to the ever expanding St Patrick’s Day celebrations, with the argument that “the Irish celebrate their saint’s day, so why shouldn’t we?” I don’t see that a load of plastic Paddys downing Guinness in O’Reilly’s Autentic Oirish Bar is something to aspire to, but never mind. The effect is the same; more people seem to celebrate St George’s Day by way of a complaint; a complaint about other nations having better national days that we do, a complaint that we English don’t mark the day appropriately.

Well go on, celebrate it, please. Do whatever it is one is supposed to do to commemorate the life of a dragon slayer. What are you meant to do? Eat a dragon pie? Wear the traditional English dress of , err, jeans and a t-shirt? What? In the absence of anything else, you could just acquiesce to the marketing men’s wishes and go to a pub with a “Celebrate St George’s Day here” banner, and drink some lovely English lager. Good luck. All I would hope is that if you do commemorate the day, do it for a positive reason; because you are genuinely proud and happy to be English and to be toasting St George, and not out of anger and resentment because other countries seem to do these things so much better than we do.

Myself? I will stay in with a bottle of wine; probably Californian or Australian I’m afraid. I suppose I could best be described as English, and ambivalent.

PostScript: If you want a rather more celebratory post about St George’s day, then Tim Worstall’s your man.

2 Comments
Tuesday 19th April 2005

Election Update

Everybody else is doing it, so why can’t (I)?

Who Should You Vote For?
Who should I vote for?

Your expected outcome:Liberal Democrat

Your actual outcome:

Labour -23
Conservative -19
Liberal Democrat 32
UK Independence Party 8
Green 19

You should vote: Liberal Democrat

The LibDems take a strong stand against tax cuts and a strong one in favour of public services: they would make long-term residential care for the elderly free across the UK, and scrap university tuition fees. They are in favour of a ban on smoking in public places, but would relax laws on cannabis. They propose to change vehicle taxation to be based on usage rather than ownership.
Take the test at Who Should You Vote For

A few points here…

  • Why am I shown as more anti-Labour than anti-Tory? Very odd.
  • Why am I shown as even slightly pro-UKIP. At all!
  • Why does it mention the ban on smoking in public places when I am not in favour of it. Unless of course I pressed the wrong button, in which case the whole validity of this survey is thrown into doubt.
  • How fares the election? I have just spent the past few days in Malta, where the only British TV channel was the news-free BBC Prime (it did show The Office, though). It was bliss. The only news I received from the locals was that United had beaten Newcastle; they looked bemused that I wasn’t pleased with this information.
Leave a comment
Thursday 14th April 2005

It's In How You Inflect

My son is nearly two years old, and his vocabulary and communication skills are advancing apace (I apologise to those who feel I talk about my family life a bit too much. If that applies to you then I suggest you move along. There’s nothing for you here).

Most of his conversational English is limited to single words, perhaps prefixed be the word “di”, which is his way of saying “the”. So, we have “di out”, when he wants to go outside; “di walk” accompanied by a pointing manoeuvre aimed at his shoes when he wants to go for a toddle; “di bin” when he has found a microscopic substance on the floor which he wants rid of; and “di dance” when he wants me to pick him up and knacker myself out, jigging along to his favourite songs such as “Stumble and Fall” by Razorlight, “Brassneck” by The Wedding Present or “Unbelievable” by EMF (he is clearly up for Backing Blair).

He does occasionally burst out with a few two word phrases that take us aback; “sorry mum” once when he bumped into my wife; “pig book” when he wants us to read “Wibbly Pig” to him; “more fruit” when he wants another peach to eat, followed by “mmm, nice” as he scoffs it, “oh dear” if he drops it, and “all gone” when he has finished it.

We do sometimes get longer sentences; for example “bye-bye, see y’soon” as a ‘plane passes overhead (which happens regularly, we are fortunate enough to live under the flight-path for Manchester Airport) but usually a long sentence requires lots of filling; so instead of saying “father, one is hungry and is most anxious that one may be allowed to partake in a slice, maybe two, of that delicious roasted topside one did most recently purchase from the butchers” we usually get “di di di di di di di di di meat”. Actually, I prefer the latter to the former. Still, the other day I got a hell of a shock when he ran up to me and said “Daddy, what r’y doin’…books?” as I sat perusing a paperback.

Of course, the pronunciation isn’t quite there for many words; he still has his own terms for certain objects. So, chocolate is “dot-dot”, biscuit is “bee bit” and banana is “nanis”, a corruption of the original “nana”. In the main I find these words very cute, but less so when they have been shouted at top volume, continuously for five minutes, while I have a headache that feels as if someone has taken a garden claw to my left temple. Which does happen from time to time.

However, there are a few things I have particularly noticed about the way my son talks, and they are;

  • He pronounces some “l” sounds as “w”. So bottle becomes “bott-uw”, when every one knows that around these parts children should pronounce bottle as “bock-ul”. Similarly, when he once had a fit asking for “we-wees” we were utterly confused, until my wife twigged that he wanted to wear his wellies.
  • For some reason, when my son says “the horse” it comes out as “di ‘ose”, in the way one would imagine a poor David Bowie impressionist would speak the words; a dropped “h”, and the rest of the word said as in“hose”, but with a hard “s” sound rather than a softer “z”, if that makes any sense.
  • Although he eschews the glottal (or should that be “glo’al”) stop, he makes use of its distant cousin, in that rather than dropping “t”s, he drops “p”s; so apple becomes “a’ull”; or rather “a’uw”, since he still pronounces an “l” as a “w”.

The overall result is that my son seems to speak in a vaguely estuary English accent, at least when he says certain words; but why? Neither my wife nor I speak that way. If he has learnt his speech from copying, then from whom has he been copying?

The most obvious explanation is the oft-quoted belief that as we watch and listen to more of the national media our regional accents and dialects will die out, to be replaced by the most prevalent speech form of the times, which is currently believed to be estuary English. This I feel would be a rather sad, but likely explanation. While I would like to think that his mother and I play a major role in his life, I suspect my son pays more attention to the words of Bella from the Tweenies than he does to either of us.

Alternatively, is it possible that my son is simply speaking in the manner that is the easiest for him to enunciate? Is it perhaps the case that he talks in the same way that every other small child in the UK has done for hundreds of years? In other words, what I am trying to suggest is, could it be that the speakers of estuary English are simply using a speech pattern that has failed to progress beyond the standards of your average (not quite) two year old?

3 Comments
Saturday 9th April 2005

Election Special

I wasn’t going to write a post about the election, I was just going to include a post-script to my previous post “Commercial Break” explaining how and why I wasn’t writing a post about the election; until I realised that in explaining why I wasn’t going to write about the election I had started writing about the election, and so writing about the election in a post-script about how I wasn’t going to write about the election started to look a bit silly. So here is my separate post, about the election, what I wrote.

The reason I wasn’t intending to speak on the subject is because I seem strangely uninterested in the whole affair. I suppose I take it for granted that Labour are going to win, and so there is nothing really left to say. Perhaps if a Tory win looks likely then I may spring into action, but unless anything dramatic happens I suggests you look elsewhere for election commentary; the Election Blog is a good place to start, which features articles from Nick Barlow, Chicken Yoghurt and the ever excellent NoseMonkey, amongst others. I have placed a LibDem advert on this page, as they will be getting my vote, but it is the equivalent of a poster in the front window of my house. It is me saying “I’ve made my mind up…now LEAVE ME ALONE!”

I will be voting for the LibDems, just as I almost always have. I suppose politically I have shuffled slightly from foot to foot over time, a bit to the left, a bit to the right, but always within the LibDem’s orbit while Labour has shot straight over my head. In particular I will get out to vote because my constituency, Cheadle, is the most marginal in the country, with a LibDem majority of only 33 over the Tories. My vote really could count.

I won’t go into details about why I won’t vote Tory. Suffice it to say that I still view them as a party of absolute and unrestrained evil, and I don’t believe that this is an unreasonable view to hold. I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire, unless I was able to piss pure paraffin. Damn them all to hell. Don’t get me started on the Tories; you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.*

I can’t say I am a big fan of Labour, of course, or of Blair, but there really is no question who I would prefer to form a government. While I understand where the Backing Blair campaign is coming from, and despite eight years of a Labour government, I still view politics in terms of being pro- or anti- the Conservatives. Even if it was in my gift, I just couldn’t bring myself to vote Tory in order to give Blair a bloody nose. I know the risks of the Tories getting in are tiny – the BBC have a handy election seat calculator here, which the other day showed a Labour overall majority of 40 seats even when both parties had 36% of the vote – but I couldn’t live with myself if the calculation went awry and Michael Howard went to see the Queen on Friday the 6th. It is too serious a business and is simply not worth it.

So that’s my election special. You will notice I haven’t gone through the parties’ policies or tried to justify why I am voting as I am, I have just bashed out a bit of prejudice. I figure most people who read this already know who they are voting for and why, and will also know why I will vote as I intend (see my previous posts if you are not sure).

I expect a third Labour term; perhaps even as part of a coalition with the LibDems if required, and if we are lucky. On that basis, I doubt I will write on this subject again. Wake me up on 05/05/05; unless something interesting happens.

*Update: I have had a rethink since writing this criticism of the Tories, and I feel that I have been unfair. It was over the top to describe them as a party of absolute evil. In addition, I believe that in all probability, if placed in the situation, I would piss on them, if they were on fire.

Leave a comment
Saturday 9th April 2005

Commercial Break

I love terrible adverts. One of my favourites recently has been for Bonjela, I think. It features a bloke underneath a sort of clear plastic sheeting dome which he punches while shrieking in an effort to be the personification of a mouth ulcer. I’d just love to imagine how you carry this off with any dignity. I can’t help but imagine the scene as he gets home after the shoot…

“Good day at work, love?”
“Great, I played a mouth ulcer who was obliterated by antiseptic gel.”
“Ooh, things are looking up. Better than being in The Bill.”

I know acting is a precarious profession, and actors are probably just happy for any work to come their way, but if you pass the audition and are chosen to play an ulcer, do you have a skip in your step for a few days, wondering if this could be your big break? What would you think are the chances of a director from the RSC seeing the advert and thinking, “That’s the fellow! We’ve just found our next Iago”? I would have thought being obscured behind plastic sheeting in this case could be a benefit, so no one associates you with such an advert. Wither the Shake and Vac lady, who probably did all right for herself by appearing in that infamous ad, but who ruled herself out of any other acting job, ever. You couldn’t really see her subsequently popping up in an episode of Cracker, could you?

But my current favourite advert features no such unfortunate actor. The “At Home with Beefy and Lamby” ads for meat are astonishing. If you haven’t seen them (and if you haven’t, you can watch them here) they feature computer animations of Ian “Beefy” Botham and Allan “Lamby” Lamb…well, eating beef and lamb. Inspired.

You can see the thinking behind them; presumably advertising execs were having a brainstorm, probably considered using Ian Botham first because of his Beefy nickname (I would be amazed if it happened the other way round) and perhaps wanted another person to play alongside him whose name or nickname also had some sort of butchery theme. The probably asked themselves if there was a John Pork, or a Mike Chicken, perhaps even a Fred Slow-Roast, when suddenly.

“I’ve got it! Allan Lamb! There’s an Allan Lamb! And he was a cricketer too! They even played for England together!”
“It’s perfect. It cannot fail. Eureka!”

High fives all round. But in all the heady enthusiasm I wonder if they forgot to ask themselves just what demographic such ads would be aiming for. I like cricket, but I would have thought the vast majority of the population have no interest in it at all. Even among cricket lovers, there is probably an entire generation who have no idea who Allan Lamb is, and certainly won’t be able to associate with the CGI version of him. More people will of course know Ian Botham, if only because of his Shredded Wheat ads, but how many youngsters will know him as Beefy, and will recognise his animated caricature? And as for one advert where Beefy and Lamby bash out the “Soul Limbo” tune on the pots and pans, won’t there be a huge number of people who won’t get the reference, having been introduced to cricket via Channel 4 and Sky? It must be years since the BBC used that tune to introduce the Test Matches; although I guess “Mambo #5” is probably a bit more difficult to replicate on household percussion.

No, I am convinced that this advertising campaign is a grave mistake; which can only guarantee that it will be a huge success. It will win a string of awards, sales of Lamb and Beef will rocket as a result, and I will have found yet another career for which I am wholly unsuited.

1 Comment