Thinks I can't change about my life pt 2: I'm from Yorkshire

Actually I'm from a rather idiosyncratic little village in Yorkshire. There is absolutely nothing I can do about this. There's nothing I can do about the fact that for the first 18 years of my life I lived in a village called Skelmanthorpe in what used to be the West Riding, now West Yorkshire. Skel Man Thorpe. Now there is this posh thing that they do isn't there where you have a really long name and you shorten it. And it's really posh. You know like, you see the name written down and it's “Cholmondley” - but actually it's pronounce “Chumley.” or “Beauchamps” but it's pronounced “Beecham” or even “Featherstonehaw” and it's pronounced “Fanshaw”. So, what did the good people of Skelmanthope come up with as their shortened version? Something visionary and aspirational? Skape? Scope? Or even something airy, bleak, mysterious and Scandivanian like “Sklaw”? Ah yes, if they'd called it Sklaw, we'd probably have lesbian couples downshifting there now.  Cappuccinos, ciabattas. No.

You know what they came up with - “Shat”. That's right, lets just savour that for a moment “Shat.” You can pretty much guarantee no marketing people were consulted in coming up with that name can't you. Shat, the past participle, sorry if I'm getting grammatical for a moment, the past participle of shit. I mean you can imagine the Marks and Spencers advert with Samba Pa Ti in the background “This isn't new shit, this isn't good shit. This is OLD shit.” You might not be surprised that the word “Shat” doesn't turn up on any maps. You might be surprised that it does turn up on shop signs. No word of a lie, there really is a business called “Shat Travel” it's in the village and it has a big, proud sign. What do they specialise in “Scary roller coaster rides and budget trips across India?”

And this experience, growing up in Shat, in West Yorkshire, well, lets just say it's coloured my view of the world somewhat. One thing being from Yorkshire has given me though. A Yorkshire accent. I mean, I don't mean in Yorkshire of course. Most people I know these days are budding actors, and you never know when you might get cast as one of the servants in Downton Abbey. And this is the trouble. What they want to say is “Down t'pit.” what they say is “Down pit.” Can you here that? “Down t'pit”. It's not a consonant, it's a pause. A stop in fact as in glottal stop. I think, possibly the best way to explain it to a sophisticated metropolitan crowd is – think of it as a very brief period of auto asphyxiation. And I know that this isn't going to bother you much. But if I don't hear that – when I fail to hear tiny bit of excitement and strangulation I think to myself - “Rada wasn't really worth the fees, was it love?” and I also lose all respect for you as a human being. OK. I'm glad we cleared that up.

And just one final thing. What should you say if you're in Yorkshire? Attempting glottal stops and stuff like that – that's just for the telly. For fuck's sake, whatever you do, don't actually try that IN Yorkshire. No. What should you say when you're in Yorkshire? What you should say when you're in Yorkshire, whenever anybody addresses you on any subject, is “Arh”. That gets you by in most situations. How did I learn to say the right thing? By saying the wrong thing of course. I was in one of the pubs in “Shat.” Actually the only one of the four that's safe to drink in (there's only three now, I'm guessing the one that's turned into a kitchen design centre isn't such a problem any more). I was in there. And I'd been having a few pints with my schoolmates and so of course I went to the gents. And while I was in there. One of the other pissees. Decided to strike a conversation and said to me “Tha looks 'appy!” Now, what I worked out later, I should have said is “Arh!” That would have got me through. That would have made me sound companionable and also non-committal and got me through the piss and back out into the pub. But what I did say was “yes indeed I am.”

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