Viewing all items for tag Nottinghamshire

Middle English

Living in this uninteresting village in the middle of England is not such a bad thing, even though I often complain about it. And about its inhabitants.

The surrounding countryside is beautiful here in Derbyshire and provides agreeable walks for me and Audrey; local people are generally polite and unobjectionable; the weather is mild and temperate, and – most importantly – the area is renowned for its attractive females.

There is, perhaps, a surfeit of villains and murderers residing in the Midlands, but one tends to avoid such people, as a general rule.

And you can’t really blame the area’s youth too much for their negative attitude to life, their casual vandalism and antisocial behaviour; that is more the fault of their parents and of the piteously poor education system in the country as a whole.

In fact, being verbally abused on a regular basis by teenagers in the village has had a positive effect on my vocabulary.

And I was pleasantly surprised yesterday when a boy stepped off the pavement to allow Audrey and I to pass. I thanked him but he merely grunted in reply. Anything else would probably have stretched his manners to the point of injury.

Insulting remarks and general abuse from disenchanted youngsters doesn’t always bear scrutiny in matters of reason or social diplomacy, but I have learned some new swear-words.

‘Dil’, ‘ferjino’ and ‘mo’ are pejorative outbursts I can imagine using for my own means in the future, as are the wonderfully descriptive adjectives ‘vommy’ and ‘cocking’.

Such terms are not even required to make any sense.

‘You’re a f*cking poledancer, mate. You cocking pole.’ (Or was it Pole?)

‘Is yer dog’s dildo up yer arse?’ There really is no suitable reply to such an inquiry.

‘You is goalie for rams, innit.’ (I have no idea – but the term rams is used regularly as a personal insult in Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire.)

‘Is yer dog gay?’ is a question I get asked a lot, for some reason. (She’s not, as far as I can tell.)

And: ‘Do yer lick yer dog’s lipstick?’ was a question which, when asked, had a young girl and her three friends chuckling uncontrollably with mirth, but the meaning of which escaped me entirely.