COCKNEY SWAY

Gisborne Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20101, 22 November 1939, Page 3

COCKNEY SWAY

“LUMME, GOVERNOR!” SHIRE DIALECTS GOING ’ITLER ’OLIDAY WAVES NEW POINT ON OLD YARNS (From a Special Correspondent) LONDON. Nov. 2. There was an old story about a rich but plebian Jew who placed his son in the care of a high Anglican church dignitary, so that he might acquire a polished English accent; and who, on asking the dignitary at a chance encounter a few months later how his son was progressing, heard his chosen mentor reply: “Dat Ikey. Vat a poy!” Now they are telling it another way. The new version concerns a Cockney father who asked an Oxonian schoolmaster to take his young hopeful in hand, spare no expense, and turn him out. with the right enunciation. In the course of time he encountered the Oxford scholar, and inquired after the progress of the boy. “Weil, Lor’ lumme, governor, strike me pink if that there young Alfie ain't | a caution," the master said. When the father found that the whole exclusive school was now talking in Cockney patter, lie gave it up. The story gains point in reference to the existing invasion of tiie English countryside by thousands of youngsters who have been evacuated from areas in which tiie Cockney tongue has flourished for generations. The impact of this distinctive language upon tiie ears of the varmers of Zurnmerzet and the gradely laads o’ Lancashire is causing the greatest disturbance in the minds of those who have worked for years to preserve the distinctive dialects of the shires. A Word With Nobby Clark There may not be any real ground for concern, at tiie moment, but if the evacues remain long in the countryside there may be more than a humorist’s license for the kind of story now appearing in London papers. F. W. Thomas, in the Star, relates that a Berkshire schoolmistress who started on a class of newly-arrived lillle Londoners, with the warning that if they did not behave she would have to reprimand them severely, finished the first month with flic declaration: "Look, ere, young Nobby Clark, I shan't ’alf fetch you a back’andor if you don’t turn it in!” But if critics of dialectics are perturbed, tiie young people from London I are not concerned. They are making tiie most of their “ Ttler ’Oliday” down in the country, and many will go back lo their slums with a new comprehension of how wide is the world, and how very different things can be from those with which they have lived all their previous lives. " ltler" may have done more than ever he bargained for by providing these youngsters with a new version of the great outdoors. It is inconceivable that the experience will not affect at least a proportion of the children, and inspire them wiili visions akin to tlio.se of the Welsh statesman who predicted a, land “lit for heroes lo live in.” ■ The immediate dread of air raids on London has passed, and residents in the metropolis are asking pointedly how long the Government and local bodies are going to maintain the present rigid precautions against public gatherings and the use of lights in the streets and on the railways. Grumblers Would Be Silenced The more responsible people‘realise that these measures are in the nature of insurance, and that relaxation might well bring disaster. But others are less long-sighted, and it would not be hard to find a few officials at least who would find some consolation in an air raid of modest dimensions, and inexpensive in casualties. Even a small raid would silence the grumblers and justify the extensive precautions for the present and for the immediate future. There are not so many cars about London now, claiming priority in traffic through the medium of A.R.P. stickers and other forms of official tagging. Many of the stickers have been removed, some by the drivers, who find that London is no longer a place in which traffic jams take place at all hours, and some by official direction. At one time almost every machine carried some sort of priority claim, expressed through initials placarded on their windscreens. “L.C.C. on A.R.P.” was a favourite tag, and others which carried weight for a time were the “W.D.” spaced with a broad arrow, and the “Emergency Food Supplies” sticker. They all lost importance quickly, however, when a few other machines appeared with bigger and better stickers, initialled “M.Y.0.8.” ’Quite a few people took days to realise that "M.Y.0.8.” meant “Mind your own business.” The London Palladium has produced another topical hit, “Run, Rabbit, Run,” and from the 8.8. C. headquarters has emerged a parody, "Run, Adolf, Run,” warning a certain Germanic statesman that: “You will flop, witli Ilerr von llibbentrop, “So run, Adolf, run Adolf, run, run, run.” Tiie parody is to find t; place among King George's library of contemporary music, His Majesty having asked the 8.8. C. for a copy of the lyric.