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Collins Taak of the Toon: How to Speak Geordie
Sid Waddell
Gain an insight into the English language, via one of the UK’s richest dialects: Geordie.From George Stephenson to The Animals to Viz, the North East has long had a successful creative culture, developing alongside its industrial history.Newcastle in particular has successfully reinvented itself as a centre of the arts, while still maintaining its own regional identity. This book is the definitive guide to the most distinctive element of that identity: the Geordie dialect.This book is a must for anyone with even a passing interest in the language of the North East, and also provides a thorough examination of the general state of English, from the traditional wit and wisdom of the Geordie perspective.
SID WADDELL
TAAK OF THE TOON
HOW TO SPEAK GEORDIE
Contents
Title Page (#uef74c4b6-cc6e-59f8-9631-b98584911602)Introduction (#uf4dad240-ec3f-5c48-b477-f31084c7dbeb)The Entire Geordie Nation (#ub369d0a6-8abc-5c0b-b369-618f2629e5c0)Welcome Stranger (#ua725a9f1-3236-58a8-8d0e-d2ae8867bec3)Wor History And Wor Heroes (#u5cb7a3fd-0a18-5e1e-bee1-512783cc5275)Waalking And Working (#litres_trial_promo)Geordie At Hyem (#litres_trial_promo)Ah’m Scranny, Mammy (#litres_trial_promo)Geordie On The Beor (#litres_trial_promo)Geet Geordie Juicers (#litres_trial_promo)Geordie On The Pull (#litres_trial_promo)Geordie Sports (Including Fighting) (#litres_trial_promo)Of Clubs And Culcha (#litres_trial_promo)About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Introduction (#u4ec9d050-fc84-5f0f-90e7-37a4c245c08a)
Everybody thinks their own bit of Britain is the best. I have Cockney pals who swear their hospitality and wit are the tops. A mate of mine from Nottingham swore the best ale and the prettiest lasses could be found within a couple of miles of the Lace Market. ‘Rubbish!’ would be the verdict of West Country pals who would attest that their scrumpy, songs, and cheeses are unbeatable.
So what would a proud Geordie like myself crack up about the place, the people and the lifestyle? Well, we do welcome strangers like long-lost friends. We do have ales like the Broon that put a buzz on your visit and nosh, like stotties, to beef you up. Our lasses are as bonny and lippy as any and the lads are boisterous, aggressive-sounding, but often as soft as thistle-down. But our main talent as a tribe is verbal: Geordies, I reckon, word-for-word could out-patter anybody.
And this brings me to my main reason for writing TAAK OF THE TOON. At moments of high emotion and/or excitement I lapse into Geordie, despite living in Yorkshire for the past 38 years. That, I would suggest, is testimony to the sheer richness of our language. Some of our words date back to invaders who hit Bamburgh and North Shields 1300 years ago. Down the centuries we have melded in Dutch, Scottish and Romany words to articulate the vivid Geordie life-experience.
So tek a deep breath, rax yer tonsils, clear yer clack… and dive in, marras.
THE ENTIRE GEORDIE NATION (#u4ec9d050-fc84-5f0f-90e7-37a4c245c08a)
There was a very loud Newcastle rock band in the 1960s called ‘The Entire Sioux Nation’; nobody slept in the entire Toon when the lads were on the go. Dogs howled, workers wakened from bonny dreams cursed and burglars ran home with empty pokes.
The best way to regard the Geordie Nation is to parallel it with the American Indians: massive hunting and marauding tribes like the Sioux, the Apache and the Comanche. Within each of those proud fierce groups there were regional subdivisions who fought to the death over buffalo killing rights, theft of horses and the odd bit of squaw-pinching. However, though we Geordies talk with pals as though a fight is about to erupt, divvent youse worry. Our patter is merely torrential enthusiasm and we don’t fight foreigners often.
The Geordie Nation’s heartland is Newcastle, alias The Toon, with its long trading, seafaring and ship building traditions. From Scotswood to Wallsend we have the ancestral home of the Toony Geordies. They are descendants of blue-bonneted keel men; flash guys quick to take the piss out of pit village lads. See a rag and bone man clopping and calling doon Westgate Road and you see a patter merchant, a verbal chancer. Modern Newcastle is the Mecca for Hens and Stags from all over Britain and the chat on the Quayside is all the richer for it. It is also possible to theorise that the number nine shirt worn by the centre forward of Newcastle United is a mythical totem-like symbol. Players like Hughie Gallacher, Jackie Milburn, Malcolm McDonald and Alan Shearer are to the Geordie tribe what Yellow Hand, Crazy Horse, Cochise, and Geronimo were to the American Indians – the peak of our manhood, role models and heroes.
Travel a few miles north of the Tyne and you find the Pitmatic Geordies: the branch of the tribe who once worked the coal mines round Ashington, Bedlington and Blyth. This lot talk as though they had a mouthful of iron filings and broken glass. I am a proud paid-up member of this branch, being bred in Ashington where my father worked down the pit for 48 years. Though the flash guys live in the Toon, the racy chat of the hard-grafting miners is probably the most vivid seam of Geordie language.
To the north and west of this branch, in Morpeth and Alnwick, we find the Romany influence in the Gadgie Geordies. Their main business was horse trading and they had many connections across the Pennines with Appleby and Carlisle. Some of their wild blood flows in my veins since I was born in Alnwick and my pipe-smoking granny spoke a lot of hawker/gipsy patter. ‘Deek the gadgie with the radge jugal andthe cushty mort.’ TRANSLATION: ‘Look at the man with the mad dog and the comely maiden.’
Even further west we have the Coonty Geordies, the wealthy self-employed farmers, folk who have tended to look down on the poorer, more collective-minded branches of the tribe who dug the coal, built the ships, caught the fi sh, and manned the boats. These people think ‘sex’ is what the coal is delivered in.
South of the Tyne and at its mouth we have the Sand Dancer Geordies. Some people regard them as Mackems, but most South Shields folk I know are proud to be called Geordies.
To the south of Geordieland, in what was once the old county of Durham, lies the land of the Mackems. They are so-called because they say ‘mack’ instead of ‘make’ and ‘tack’ instead of ‘take’. They are enemies of the Geordies, particularly on the football field. But a lot of them in Gateshead and the East Durham pit villages talk like us. So the inter-tribal violence is mostly satirical or symbolic.
The folk of Teesside are known as Smoggies, because of the rotten smelly fug that hangs like a manky shroud over their polluted river.
To the north of the Geordies live the Jocks, whose words you will read here because we swiped a lot of them. They are not really wor enemies, because to many Scots ‘a Geordie is just a Jock with his heid kicked in’.
I mention these other tribes because we Geordies have often defined ourselves as enemies of the lesser breeds south and north of the Rio Grande – the Mighty Tyne. But really, as this book will show once you get to know us, we are deed canny… as lang as we get wor own way!
aadadjective old
aakwardadjective awkward
aaladjective all
aalreetadverb, adjective all right Comparereet
I can hear yee aalreet but my lugsare not reet aalreet. Aalreet? TRANSLATION: I am at odds with you, myself and the entire world. OK?
aforeadverb, preposition, conjugation before
Afore oppenin yer gob, use yer noddle. TRANSLATION: Engage brain before speaking.
agyenadverb again
ahadnoun1 a hold | adjective,adverb2 on fire [From Geordie pronunciation of hold]
Tyek ahad of me hand and ah’lllead yer to the land of yourdreams. TRANSLATION: Come with me to the deeper parts of Jesmond Dene.
Ah’ve hoyed matches andparaffin on this bliddy fire but itwinnit tyek ahad. TRANSLATION: We have to put on woollies because I cannot get the fire to light.
aheytadverb, adjective in the air [Probably from Geordie pronunciation of height]
In pitch and toss yee hoy twocoins up aheyt and cross yerfingers. TRANSLATION: Gambling is not a reliable form of occupation.
ahintpreposition, adverb behind [From Old English aethindan]
amangpreposition among
Aladdin must have been reet dim to faal amang them gadgies. TRANSLATION: Aah the innocence of youth.
argieverb to argue
Yee would argie yer way throughthe Hobs of Hell. TRANSLATION: Your disputative nature will bring you to a very sad end.
arlyadjective early
arnverb to earn
atweenpreposition between
Ah feel ah’m atween a rock and ahard place. TRANSLATION: The wife and the mother-in-law are in cahoots against me.
aye
sentence substitute yes [Old English a always]. Compareaye
aye
adverb always; ever [Old Norse eiever]
Yer aye deein that!TRANSLATION: Why not try to introduce some variety into proceedings?
ayontpreposition beyond
Hey bonny lad, that’s weel ayonta joke. TRANSLATION: Your attempt to flatter me with humour is an insult.
WELCOME STRANGER (#u4ec9d050-fc84-5f0f-90e7-37a4c245c08a)
Despite the violent sounding gutturals, glottal stops and in-yer-face delivery of us Geordies, we are a hospitable tribe, ever ready to welcome lads and lasses who come smoking the pipe of peace. Travellers will be greeted with the traditional warming cry: ‘Gittheroondin kidda!’1 (#ulink_708d4166-408c-598e-9dd1-ee74e3ce5c22)
So, before pointing your painted pony at our heartlands, here are a few key words and expressions to ease your entry into Geordie society.
I will dramatise your first few likely encounters with the locals: first, you alight for your weekend at Newcastle Central Station and wish to leave your luggage so you can begin staggering or henning right off. I suggest you approach the person on the pasty stall thus: ‘Heypet cannahoymebagahinttheor?’2 (#ulink_ca8fc8da-18f5-580d-bf6d-3beaba23dac9)
Almost certainly the answer will be: ‘Naebotheratallcaacanny.’3 (#ulink_9912c605-8d57-5d90-a1b1-14ce588bf9f0) If it’s Saturday you will be surrounded by hundreds of human zebras – Toon fans proudly strutting in their black and white tops. Approach them boldly with a cheesy grin and say: ‘Hoozit gannagan athgyemthidaybonnyladz?’4 (#ulink_3b8b8326-7738-5396-8937-e7bea3a02741)
Once they see you are not a Mackem spy they will lead you willingly to their favourite watering holes with this encouraging cry: ‘Howay alang wiusforrabevvy.’5 (#ulink_4e99c8f0-7f88-52b3-8947-78d7f30d526e)
Once in the Strawberry or the Bacchus, both decked out with photos of United legends, they will ask, ‘Reet marra deeyeewantbroon or ex?’, refining the idea possibly thus, ‘Offtheneck – orbyglass,streyt or kinky?’6 (#ulink_f291b564-014d-5133-b659-b10317928157)
I would advise that after a few pints you seek food. Approach the barmaid and say, ‘Ahmscrannyhevyeeanystotties?’7 (#ulink_f663dda8-eeb2-561d-8a5b-66d8bda3f2cb) She might reply like this, ‘Areyeesumradgie gadgie? nee mebbesabootit…weeshoachin withem.’8 (#ulink_ec6e0b6a-a910-544e-9b04-6bc52ebadee6)
When the food appears, thank her profusely and tip her. ‘Ta petgit yersella pintwhen yeetek yer blaa.’9 (#ulink_678fdbb9-779c-59d5-9325-68972a8a02ad)
Having satisfied the inner man or woman you may now proceed bravely and merrily among the locals.
Glossary
1 (#ulink_051dd3b7-1379-58df-a9db-7810224115b8) ‘Buy the beers and you’ve got mates for life.’
2 (#ulink_dea853d6-075e-5442-aea4-e2957bb5c9c3) ‘Pardon me, friendly-looking person, but may I deposit my luggage on your premises?’
3 (#ulink_723f7a81-fa6a-549f-a5e7-22f70cca6c8b) ‘My pleasure, have a nice day’.
4 (#ulink_723f7a81-fa6a-549f-a5e7-22f70cca6c8b) ‘Are you confident of a Newcastle victory in today’s soccer contest?’
5 (#ulink_6eaaa65a-a143-5e76-88b1-187ac4cefe1c) ‘Join us for a libation or several.’
6 (#ulink_ec945dcd-15a4-56ef-899a-eede25412882) ‘Righto, pal, are you drinking Brown Ale or Exhibition? If you need a glass do you want a sleeve or a handle?’
7 (#ulink_8a869680-890a-5cad-b0c0-0e2dfd025d67) ‘I am hungry. Have you any local sandwiches?’
8 (#ulink_8a869680-890a-5cad-b0c0-0e2dfd025d67) ‘What a daft question! If we had any more sarnies in here there’d be no room for punters.’
9 (#ulink_826609ab-e088-5d03-a79e-f3aaf996b5bd) ‘Pray take a sherbet on me during your break.’
baaryadjective lovely [From Romany. Compare Scots barry]
We had a baary time at WhitleyBay even though we lost aal worlowey at the shows. TRANSLATION: Our visit to the coast was fun even though we got skint at the funfair.
babbynoun a baby, infant, or toddler
You’re sticking that top lip oot likea little babby. TRANSLATION: Grow up!
baccy chownoun chewing tobacco [From baccy tobacco + chow to chew]
Yee are not worth a baccy chow. TRANSLATION: You do not rank in my spectrum of esteemed persons.
badlyadjective in poor health; sick; ill
If ye weren’t badly ah’d clock yerone. TRANSLATION: Your illness is an excuse for getting away with murder.
baggienoun a stickleback or other small fish
You’re nowt but a tatty baggie inyer own little pond. TRANSLATION: There is a great big world out there, sonny.
bagienoun a turnip [From Swedish (rota) bagge]
bairnnoun a child [From Old English bearn]
baitnoun food, esp a packed lunch [From Old Norse beita hunt]
bargieverb1 to claim | interjection2 bargies me! bagsy!
Bargies me that doggie in thewindow. TRANSLATION: I wish that scruffy mongrel could be our family pet.
barryverb to bury
Ah want to barry the hatchet – inhis bliddy heed. TRANSLATION: The quality of mercy is extremely strained.
batnoun1 a blow | verb2 to hit (someone or something) [From French battre]
batchyadjective extremely angry; furious [probably related to batty]
Me mother went batchy whenI got me new troosers hackyplaying muggies. TRANSLATION: Mama was not best pleased at the state of my pants after playing marbles.
belly-toppernoun a young woman wearing an outfit that exposes her midriff
Deek thon belly-topper; yee cansee aal hor knickors and half herknockors!TRANSLATION: Look at that young lady! Her attire leaves little to the imagination.
beornoun beer
bideverb to wait
big endnoun the concert room in a pub or club. Comparetit-and-fiddle end
The big end is stowed off, so we’llhev to slum it in the bar. TRANSLATION: Do we really need to hear that comedian again?
bingo dobbernoun a round felt pen used to mark bingo cards [Perhaps from Geordie pronunciation of dab or daub]
