LONDON SLANG

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 20108, 29 March 1928, Page 8

LONDON SLANG

ON THE "MOTHER GOOSE” “BOTHER AND STRIFE" IS THE WIFE. As the English edition of Sinclair Lewis’ novels needs a glossary to be understood, just so do visitors to London need a dictionary of colloquialisms—that is, visitors whether hailing from Flagstaff or Lincolnshire who discard Baadeker and shake hands with “London Town." To-day even. Charles Dickens, were he to step from a Putney Green bus, would find the most casual public-house conversation distressingly over his head. Piccadilly is “the Dilly"; a London bobby is a “split" or a “nark," as you tvill, and a pub is a “garden of love.’’, And fancy calling a man’s wife anything but “bother and strife." The barmaid serves up beer at the call “pig’s ear," and stout masquerades under “siffy water." The server of drinks after hours may find himself being put behind bars in the “clink” by the plainclothes “Jack or “Bogey." A low cafe is not a dive, but a gaff." They call the swells 'nobs" or “what-wats," though the fashionable are also, of course, very “posh." “ATother Goose" is short for being on the loose; and the Londoner’s club is often called endearingly his “bath and tub." If the girl friend says she’ll see you at “dirty Gertie," you’d better be sure and make it at 3.30 o’clock , sharp. A girl, by the way, is a “black pearl." Though the Englishman’s home may be his castle, the nicknames ne gives his bric-a-brac are anything but baronial. One must break into a London middle or lower class family circle really to meet the King’s English. First off, when they tell you to “put the wood in the hole,’’ comply by closing the door. Drop your hat on a chair when the host asks you to hang your “tit for tat" on one of the “apples and pears." “Hoy Lee,’ the Englishman’s hot afternoon cup, will probably be served on the “Cain arud Abel” before long. Remember, in piecing together the small talk, that the master of the house is “old pot and. pan"; the mater “muffer" and “skin and blister” simply a fellow’s sister. “The Duke of Kent" is house rent, and to inspect the second story you must climb the “wooden mountains." “Oxford scholars” are not of the scholnien, signifying merely starched collars; over your socks called “Tilbury docks" you draw on and lace your “daisy roots"; the tails of the “dicky dirt” are tucked into “round-mc-houses” or trousers; and the overcoat is a “smother."

Prime assets of variety-hall girls are their “Scotch pegs.” “French paste" is a term for the face,

“conk" for the nose and “bonce” for the head. “Alince pies" are eyes. Though the Cockney’s hand is a “brass band," anger may suffer him to strike out with his “Oliver Twist" and possibly connect with the pit of his opponent’s “derby Kelly." In Blackfriars the sign of the three balls means “Uncle Bob," which is one and the same. Aloney is “pot of honey,” and enough of anything elicits the warning “basin full"; bread is “chuck" and a herring a “oneeyed beefsteak." You start the

“Aunt Afyria" in the stove by striking a “coney hatch." Anyone doing the “ball and chalk” is walking; passing down the road is “frog and toad"; a fellow’s mate is “put and take." Loquacious folk “blow the gaff" too much, and any sort of noise is a “box of toys.” “The garden gate’’ implies tardiness. The park is “fire and spark" and “Eiffel Tower" the hour of the day.