Fitting into English society. As an overseas born person, you could ask yourself why you would want to? Especially when even English people don't seem to want to fit in anymore. Or, as some do on holiday, simply pretend they're anything but English. This then includes speaking some sort of GCSE French or Spanish to their partners who then look at them in confusion, disgust and, ultimately, regret. Why did I marry this person?
Still, living in England, it might be handy to adopt some form of English decorum so you don't stick out like a sore thumb all the time. Much like that English tourist in Tenerife, who, in spite of his best efforts at pretending to be French/Spanish, is painfully recognisable because of the English version of the all-over-tan. The red lobster look.
And you probably want more than the casual, I-am-here-for-two-weeks version of fitting in as well. That's more of a blending in. A not being noticed. When you live in a foreign country, you don't necessarily want to go around unnoticed. You just want to fit in.
My Journey
On and off, going back and forth, I have been part of English (and British) culture for about 15 years now. The first 20 years of my life, I believed Great Britain was this quirky little island across the pond where people wore bowler hats, played football, carried umbrellas and had rather large chins. The latter is because I used to watch Match of the Day, presented by the late (and great) Jimmy Hill and Des Lynam.
Believe it or not, English was never my strongest subject and I remember sitting through my early university lectures with a mixture of fear, confusion and apathy. Watching other students furiously write like their lives were depending on it while I could only understand two out of every ten words uttered - and those mainly being prepositions. It was all really quite disheartening. My feelings of being lost in not understanding were painfully highlighted when I asked one of the lecturers for her notes and merely I received a blank stare and blank A4.
Drowning my sorrows in the pub didn't help because I understood even less of what was being said there. I didn't know how to order a beer, so many versions of ordering seemed to exist, and I got totally confused with some of the different drinks people enjoyed. Cider and black (what is the black), lime and lemonade (without an actual lime), snakebite, ale (but also old ale), porter and stout - not to mention the one thousand varieties of beer taps that were staring back at me. Back at the table - the tiny pub ones you can't actually sit at - I was always suspended between beginning to understand a joke that had been told two hours ago and the desire to tell the landlord/landlady to turn the f**ing music off so I could concentrate.
But then Fitting into England for Beginners will tell you that you do not mess with music! Especially in a group of a students at the height of Indie Music England and every single roommate wanting to start a band in a drunken and stoned stupour.
Pulling and the Weather
I passed my full Beginner's Course after a couple of years. It took me a few months to get to grips with English going out culture and the concept of an actual lingo exclusively designed just for going out. Little did I know, for instance, that 'Going on the pull' was different from 'Going out'. But I learnt. Going on the pull has a purpose, which is highlighted by the various wash-up meetings the day after. Hungover in the communal kitchen or, worse, in a lecture.
'And, did you pull?'
Varieties to this question are: Did you snog and did you shag.
If you hadn't pulled, you hadn't succeeded. If, at two am, the lights came on during It Must be Love by Madness and you weren't snogging, you'd failed. This took me some time to figure out because I thought that the announcement, 'We're going on the pull tonight, are you coming?' was merely a synonym for are you coming out with us. The way that 'Alright' was a synonym for 'Hello'.
That actually took a while to sink in too. The alright thing. A little while and some uncomfortable stares from people I did not know very well and whom I, erroneously, disclosed my feelings to when they asked me how I was doing. When actually, they were only saying hello.
Them: 'Alright?
Me: 'Yeah, no bad. We just treated the Chorus in Henry V, which did my head in somewhat. I mean, I don't know what Dr DeLillo is talking about half the time. I've got Feminism in post-modern writing next. You taking that course? I am going into town later. Are you? I think that Trevo and Dan are going. Do you know Trevo? Anyway, how are you?'
Them [slightly confused look, scanning for possible exits]: 'Yeah, erhm good. Thanks. Cheers.'
There's another one. Cheers.
So that's not what you say when you're having drinks with friends. Well, it is but it's also saying thank you.
But all of that is merely beginner English fitting in. Other elements of the beginner course are understanding that a British rollie doesn't necessarily have to have any tobacco in it. It could just be a tiny, slightly crumpled piece of rolled up paper that the smoker sets on fire. In fact, the less tobacco the better. And do call it 'baccy' as well! And then not a cigarette but a fag, ciggie, cig or, if you must, a death stick.
A friend is not a friend but a mate and a geezer is not just any man but a certain man - not everyone is a geezer and not everyone is even qualified to use the word geezer. Confusing? Not in the slightest. Queuing is definitely a thing the English don't just do for the sake of doing and there is an entire lingo and language reserved just for the weather. Shit weather to be exact but they're equally happy to complain and use a variety of phrases when they're hot. So from nippy to baltic when it's cold and from bucketing (it) down, pissing (it) down, chucking (it) down to pelting (it) down when it's raining. And an entire dictionary beyond it.
I Am Sorry
Also part of the beginner course is the use of the word 'sorry'. At first, I thought that was going to be complicated as well. Especially because I am from the Netherlands and we do not use a word like 'sorry' very often.
Only when we're - well - actually sorry about something.
It's a bit like please and thank you. The Dutch do say please, contrary to what some people believe, but only when we feel a please is in order. Same for thank you. If we're thankful, we'll say thank you. We're just not very thankful very often. So when a cashier hands us back our money, it doesn't require a thank you. I mean, it's part of the transaction.
Sorry if that bit of Dutch culture offends people.
Except not sorry because I am not sorry.
Neither are the English - they just say that word all the time.
So being Dutch, I naturally thought I was going to struggle with knowing when exactly to say sorry but in English (and all of British) society, it is actually very easy. You just always say sorry. You say sorry when you bump into someone. You say sorry when someone bumps into you. You say sorry when you almost go through a doorway first. You say sorry for someone else going through the doorway first. You say sorry when you ask someone to get you something. You say sorry when you're late, sorry when you're on time and even sorry when you're early. You say sorry when you pay in cash, you say sorry when you pay by card and (I assume) when you simply run off without paying at all. You simply say sorry for everything. Always.
It's surprisingly easy but difficult when you return to your own country and spend your days saying sorry to people who look utterly confused.
The Advanced Course
The Advanced Course is designed to give you more of an insight into English culture. Insights that you might not discover on your first few trips to the island and that you might not immediately need either. After all, you're going to be spending most of the time feeling inconsolably sorry about everything, so you won't get to do much else.
These insights are important for the person who's going to spend a little bit longer in England. The seasoned traveller, if you will or, like me, the resident. The expat who would like a little bit more from their time here. I have accumulated these insights over the many years I have lived here and from time to time, found them extremely handy and - sometimes - a lifesaver.
Banter and Conversational Dexterity
I suspect that banter, as well as the intense need for banter, is not quite on the Advanced list. Communication in England equals banter and quick wit is, in many cases, a necessity if you wish to be heard, thought of, listened to or just taken seriously. If you cannot be witty quick then you're witty slow or not witty at all and you don't count. What I did not understand was how precarious banter was and how much of a faux pas it is to be not witty fast.
Now the concept of banter has come under fire a little bit because of its many faces and, in particular, the type of banter we've come to recognise as or call so-called locker room banter, which is basically a euphemism of racism, sexism and a bunch of other -isms that, we can all agree, has no place anywhere. Certainly not in this blog.
That being said, the art of bantering is still very much an active part of English society and people like me might struggle with it from time to time. Even when you come to master the language to the point where you can keep up with understanding the jokes, the double entendres and word plays and even when you are capable of coming up with replies before the natives supply them. Quick-wittedness is key but there is a huge banana skin you could slip on. Quick and funny is good, quick and unfunny is potentially suicidal.
This is where the conversational dexterity comes in. To pass the Advanced Course it is absolutely imperative you know when to change topic. The average topic time in a pub conversation with three people or more is about five minutes. Spend any longer on a single topic and you will become to be seen as political or, worse, argumentative. Spend any longer on a single joke and you will become to be seen as militant. A comeback or reposte is good but a personal attack is not. If someone roasts you during a banter conversation, you can roast them back but you have steer clear of ad hominim attacks and you have to be able to pivot to a different topic. Whatever you do, take banter in good grace and laugh. Do not get personal.
The key to banter is light and funny. For people from northern European countries, this can be difficult because we only really know two types of funny: slapstick and dark. We either laugh at ten cops falling over like domino bricks or we laugh at incest. I hate to say it but it's true - our idea of funny is almost no one's idea of funny. If you're born with more southern European blood, it's probably best to learn how to count to ten and not see every breezy insult as an invitation to pistols at dawn. Even insults have to be light and funny, which is also where linguistic dexterity and a good knowledge of the English language are key. You can't just start with Yo Mamma jokes.
To recap: keep up. Make it bright and breezy and if it gets personal, be prepared to steer away and laugh it off. As soon as you hear the high-pitched Oooooh, you know you've gone too far, too long or too personal.
Catching
This is a thing.
Let me repeat that, being able to catch is a thing in England.
I am not, personally, that bad at catching things but I have been known to drop things too. To be honest, where I come from, being able to catch things is as much a thing as being able to breathe, being able to cut bread or being able to open a car door. It's hardly a big deal.
Then you come to England and you notice there is some kind of rare emphasis on the ability to catch. Words have been invented for people who are bad at catching (crisp packet hands and butterfingers (though the latter is arguably more American English)) and whenever someone in a group of people drops something, a big deal is made of the drop.
Conversely, when someone makes a stunning catch, it is celebrated. Just before the catch, there will be a weight of anticipation. When they catch it, we celebrate; when they don't, we mock. These are the only two outcomes, so come to England but learn how to take a catch.
English cuisine is simple maths
If banter wasn't trecherous ground enough, I am actually wading into English cuisine here. The worst case of food poisoning I've ever suffered was at the hands of some seriously dodgy fish from a chippy in Wells (yeah, I've not forgotten!). Because of the seven inches of batter these people generally apply, I only realised I'd eaten blue stained fish when it came back on the reverse but it's a lesson learnt. Don't eat yellow snow, don't eat blue fish.
For some of English/British cuisine, there is no excuse. I am not from a culinary rich and diverse background myself but at least we have the decorum not to make a big fuss about it. No one knows about Dutch cuisine and we keep it that way. If it ain't fixed, don't try to break it - or something like that anyway. There is, however, a way of enjoying English or British cuisine and that is by understanding the role of simple maths. The most basic one of all.
1 + 1 = 2
Any English meal that is presented like a mathematical sum can be considered sound and edible. Even fish + chips. Sausage (bangers) + mash is another one and, in the pie section, you have steak + kidney, chicken + leak and steak + ale. As pasties go, you can rely on onion versions such as beef + onion and cheese + onion. These do well in the sandwich stakes too (cheese + onion) but so do ham + cheese, tuna + mayo and egg + cress.
As far as desserts go, you need a slightly more creative approach to maths. While crumble + custard and bread + butter make obvious 1 + 1 = 2 sums, sticky + toffee, spotted + dick and Eton + mess are slightly more left-of-centre. But still the same
Meanwhile, at the dodgier end of the spectrum are the one plus ones that really don't make a two for any foreigner. Or any human being. Beans + toast is no one's idea of food but even people who are not destitute eat them, as long as they're from this island. Speaking of destitution, cucumber + white bread is actually a thing the rich consider food. Lower down the economic ladder, the English will also entertain white bread + chips, white bread + fish fingers and (deep intake of bread - learn your puns) white bread + spaghetti.
And let's end on that. Spaghetti on toast. Or, as Website The English Kitchen puts it, 'Spaghetti on Toast is a popular supper dish over here in the UK . . . simple, easy, cheap and something that the children really love, and a mainstay for poor and hungry students living in bedsits.'
Clearly, the English hate their children and their students.
More Verbal Dexterity
Let's not end on food poisoning and projectile vomiting. English culture is a linguistic culture. A verbally astute and accomplished culture and so mastering the English language is of critical importance as the paragraphs on banter have already highlighted.
Incredibly useful in that context are the uses of the understatement, coded speech, litotes and sarcams or verbal irony to name but a few. Have fun with the language. If you see a view that quite simply takes your breath away, say it's not too unpleasant. Say it's rather pretty or say it's the worst view your poor eyes have ever suffered.
Learn how to read the language. So when your boss says that your idea was not that bad, understand that your idea was complete and utter dog shit. The worst idea ever. When, as a result of that quite good idea, he/she invites you over saying, 'You should come over some day', do not go there. In fact, stay away!
And don't forget the fine art of the overstatement. A cheese toastie or apple pie can, under the correct circumstances, be considered hotter than the sun. But deliver it with personality and attitude. Enjoy playing with the language and with the delivery.
And finally, learn how to say you were drunk without saying you were drunk. Blotto, half-cut or any of the past participles that seem to work rather well. Trollied, wankered, sloshed, rat-arsed, pissed. As my friend at uni once said, 'There's nothing in the English language that does not denote drunk when it is made into a past particple.'
Even nouns and adjectives.
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