The girl from the Black Country

My thanks to readers who pointed out that Janice Nicholls, who featured in last week’s column, did not have a Brummie accent at all, but a Black Country lilt, hailing from Wednesbury, just west of Birmingham. Confusing those two dialects is apparently an unforgivable sin. It just goes to show how difficult it is to accurately identify British accents.

It also raises the issue of what exactly is the Black Country. You won’t find it on a map, but it is an area west and north of Birmingham in the West Midlands which includes Wolverhampton, and inherited its name from the black smoke coming from iron works and other heavy industries that emerged in Victorian times.

Charles Dickens gave it a mention in his 1841 novel, The Old Curiosity Shop, noting the factories “poured out their plague of smoke, obscured the light and made foul the melancholy air”.

In 1872, the American consul in Birmingham described the area as “black by day and red by night”. A 19th century travelogue observed: “blackness everywhere prevails; the ground is black, the atmosphere is black and … mining galleries stretch in utter blackness”. So it was definitely a bit on the black side.

Fortunately the pollution is greatly reduced now with the last colliery in the Black Country closing down in 1968.

The local dialect is known as “Black Country Spake”. I will spare the details, but suffice to say it is distinct from the Brummie accent. Among words you may hear regularly are “thee”, “thy” and “thou” and a regular greeting is “Ow b’ist gooin?” (“How are you. How’s it going?”)

Birmingham citizens sometimes refer to Black Country people as “Yam Yams” because they say “yow am” meaning “you are”.

Peak of fashion

The popular BBC series Peaky Blinders, which was mentioned in PostScript last week, uses the Black Country Living Museum in Dudley regularly for location shots and attendance figures at the museum have soared since the series began. The museum even hosts a “Peaky Blinders Evening” and has a barber on site in case anyone has a sudden urge to get the distinctive Peaky haircut.

By all accounts, visitors who attend these special nights are already wearing familiar gear with the peak caps, long heavy coats, Tweed three-piece suits, penny collar striped shirts and solid lace-up boots. But unlike the TV programme, strictly no violence. These Black Country nights have proved “bostin’” … a great success.

Gourmet’s delight

The Black Country is also the proud home of the Groaty Dick Pudding, which might not sound too appealing, but is said to be quite tasty. It’s a kind of meat and veg porridge or stew which goes down very nicely on a nippy night in the West Midlands. As they might say in Dudley, “bostin’ fittle” (great food).

There is also a Black Country anthem, I Vow to Thee Black Country, by a band with the magnificent name, The Empty Can.

You can hear it on YouTube. It is a really stirring song, adapting the famous Gustav Holst composition with Black Country lyrics.

Not for the first time, I’m getting a bit out of my depth here, so if you want to learn more about the Black Country dialect, I recommend an entertaining documentary on YouTube by Jonny Cole. A talented musician, Cole also has a healthy interest in Black Country culture.

Notes on Newfinese

Former Post colleague Alan Dawson, a Canadian by birth, informs me that the most “impenetrable’’ accent in North America is in Newfoundland. According to Al, everyday phrases include “Whadya at?” (What are you doing?) and “How’s she cutting?” (Hi, how are you today?)

If you go into a restaurant you may well be greeted with “How is ya me ducky? For two?” the restaurant’s maitre-d’ asking, “How are you, ma’am? Table for two?” Then there is the expression “long may your big jib draw” , a respectful wish that you have a long life.

Thai style

Last week I referred to a couple of Thais who had distinctive accents having studied in Wales and Australia.

I forgot to mention a Thai fellow I came across in Bangkok, who speaks with a broad cockney accent. His conversation is littered with expressions like “apples and pears” (stairs), “boat race” (face) and “pig’s ear” (beer).

I also overlooked the Thai lady who lives with her Scottish husband in Perth, Scotland.

Her conversations feature abundant use of the words “wee”, “aye” and “bairn”, which raises a few eyebrows when she goes south to England.

At the New Year she can be heard greeting Scottish friends with “lang may yer lum reek”, although she still manages a “sawasdi pee mai” for Thai friends.

Fan club

Sometimes it is probably just as well if you don’t understand what is being said.

Many years ago I received a letter from a Scottish reader who described PostScript as “just a wheen o’ blethyers”, which is apparently less than complimentary, even though it does have a certain lyrical ring to it.

On another occasion, after I had written about a visit to Australia, someone wrote to suggest I was “a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock” while another observed that Crutch was a “drongo” and “a snag [sausage] short of a barbie.”

The Aussies certainly have a creative way with words.

Maybe they should become English language teachers in Thailand.