Britical

NYC

I have never quite understood why on a “sophisticated”, smug little island like Manhattan even the most worldy American will be suddenly cowed, and reduced to gushing: “Oh I just love hearing you say that in your accent. Say it again!” It’s as if, overcome by what these days can hardly constitute a novelty, they just can’t help themselves. I for my part find myself yet again exclaimed at, cooed over like a precocious child or strange little animal. Of course it’s hopeless to point out to them that, contrariwise, they are the ones with the accents. But then, neither is it in my interest to do so.

Best not to read this unless you’re British, but one of the by-products of living in America is what I like to call The British Accent Advantage (B.A.A.). As I have mentioned before, it does behoove one, in the most cynical of ways, to keep the thing spic, span and nicely polished because, for some reason, it does still “work” on the natives here. As any American will quite rudely observe, a Brit can be untethered to any sort of logic, raging drunk (often), or quite astonishingly stupid, and not only be able to get away with it, but be praised for their keen intelligence into the bargain. I suppose there must be some colonial legacy at work here, which explains why villains in American movies are usually British - skilled, typically, in both the suave and the brutish.

Venture onto mainland America, however, and it can all go a bit sideways. Certain sorts of “blue collar” Americans may become alarmed or angry, thinking you pretentious (or gay, if you’re a man) and apt to look down on them. Of course, you probably are apt to look down on them and more than they could ever fathom, but hardly for reasons of mere accent.

Leg it back to the city then, where solatium can be found in affecting a ridiculously posh and confident Liz Hurley-type accent: most effective for barging about getting good tables in restaurants and so forth. At other times, the still “terribly, terribly, darling” but slightly nasal, whiny, apologetic tone (Hugh Grant) perfected by certain sorts of irritating women in England works nicely when trying to wheedle things out of wary, would-be inferiors at the post office and Duane Reade. (The inexplicably proud catchpharse blaring from the side of their delivery trucks is “Everywhere You Go, Duane Reade!” and indeed the ghastly place is unavoidable.)
It’s jolly good fun to pretend you “hate to be a nuisance but…” when demanding several plane seats all to your selfish self and your three (in my case) imaginary friends; for when you’re caught driving too fast; or for being caught being “fast” and thus having to explain why you perhaps slept with someone you shouldn’t have. (”Oh gosh, oh what a terrible mistake - I’m ever so sorry! Oh dear…” etc.) Yes, sometimes an unassuming, cringeing demeanour is just the ticket. Otherwise, default to super-duper Liz Hurley voice.

In case you’re a bit common, or just wondering, the only time you should sound a bit “fish ‘n’ potata” (as my Mother would put it) is when you want to seem a bit simple. I myself have many little moments when it’s convenient to appear utterly clueless. Liz Hurley should be quickly but subtly dumped, voice dialled down to Sarf London Kate Moss levels. (No Dick Van Dyke accent mangling circa Mary Poppins allowed - but make sure to wipe your nose.)

…Still, it occurs to me that, being American, the person may not be able to discern the difference in regional accents and the vicious little prejudices that should be assumed as a result. (Of course, they are plenty skilled at parsing their own regional variations; indeed, apart from race, accent seems to be one of the main signifiers of class in this falsely dubbed “classless society” - not that there is much class to go round, mind you, so maybe they have a point.) But wait! This is exactly when slipping into an American accent would actually be useful. People would automatically assume you haven’t much to offer and know little more than they do… and you would think good manners might compel me to finish that sentence with something brightly generous like “… and they might be right!” Alas, I’m afraid I am still a bit British, and, oh gosh, really rather clueless.

 

 

Copyright Britical 2006