The facts:Cockney Rhyming Slang Revealed

I’ve just realised how arrogant that title sounds. It makes me seem like I know everything there is to know about Cockney Rhyming Slang. So I suppose I had better give a little explanation. I have not used any reference sites or books in the writing of this article so any mistakes are mine. What follows is the result of being born within the sound of Bow Bells. Growing up with Cockney father, Cockney mother and both sets of Cockney grandparents began my education. Being fascinated by the oral history they all passed on continued it. Using my accent as a weapon during my teenage years sharpened it. Taking a degree in English literature helped me to appreciate it more fully. And a post-grad paper in linguistics allowed me to analyse it further.

So do I know everything there is to know about Cockney Rhyming Slang? Of course not, but I am in a position to have a say. If you really don’t agree with anything here, that is your right. Just don’t get your knickers in a twist over it.

Nowadays it seems that every man and his dog wants to call themselves Cockney. That’s understandable as we are obviously the best people in the world. Seriously though there is a specific way to define a Cockney. Usually, being born within the sound of Bow Bells makes you Cockney. In order to understand what that means we need to have a look at the history of London and the people who came to define themselves as Cockney.

In medieval times London was a walled city one square mile in area. The remains of the walls can still be seen and they have defined the street names of today, eg London Wall, Aldgate, Bishopsgate, Moorgate etc. Hawkers, peddlars and mendicants were not permitted to remain in the city after dark (although there is evidence that many did) and so they set up shanty towns near to the gates. At Moorgate they camped on the marshes (hence moor gate). At Aldgate (the first or old gate) they spread along the road and set up shops and trading posts. This became Commercial Road. These ramshackle slums, similar in essence to what is seen today outside cities such as Mumbai and Rio de Janeiro, grew into the East End.

The gates to the city would open at a specific time every morning. Clocks were rare and unreliable but the church bells provided a regular way of measuring time. When the monks at St Mary le Bow church rang the Matin bells every morning it was the signal for the gates to open and the poor to enter the city. In this way, the sound of Bow Bells became of pivotal importance to the poor outsiders scrabbling to make a living. There is some evidence that St Mary le Bow, like many other English churches, is on the site of a Saxon church so it is possible that all this began to happen 500-600 years earlier than I am suggesting. What’s half a millennium between friends?

In order to be a Cockney one needs to have been born “within the sound of Bow Bells”. That effectively means that living to the east of the City of London and north of the River Thames defines who is Cockney. My reason for saying that north of the Thames is important, is because in those old days there were no bridges across the Thames and ferrymen plied their trade over the river. Traders who lived there would have been at a disadvantage to those who could just walk into the City. And we only accept the best as Cockney. :)

Even in those early times many of those people in the slums would have migrated to London from other parts of England. It set up the tradition that the East End would become the first stop for immigrants, be they Huguenot, Jewish, Irish, West Indian, Bengali or Turkish, or a hundred other ethnicities. Each of these waves of immigrants has added their own particular character and influence to what it means to be Cockney. Indeed I have heard that very name Cockney is a corruption of an old French (possibly Huguenot) word. I prefer, however, the explanation that it is simply a reference to the prodigious genitalia of Cockney men.

Amongst this mass of humanity fighting poverty, lack of sanitation, regular pestilence and overcrowding there grew a strong sense of community and identity. Coupled with the inevitable rise in criminal enterprises that such conditions encourage, the language evolved. Unlike other dialects of English which grew from the isolation of many people, Cockney Rhyming Slang was a determined effort to hold conversations without outsiders being able to understand what was going on. I have always had to laugh about the way that Rhyming Slang becomes more pronounced in the company of outsiders, but is used only sporadically amongst family and friends. Often these conversations would be about the best way to fleece the outsiders present.

The way that Cockney Rhyming Slang works is actually quite simple. One takes a word and then finds a pair of words to rhyme with it. So, stairs rhymes with pears. Apples and pears make a good couple. So the rhyming slang for stairs is apples and pears. However, why use three words to represent one? So only the first part of the pair is used. My mother would send me to bed with the words “up the apples”.

There are hundreds of these pairs. And like any living language they change and evolve. For example as a kid the slang for car was jam jar. However, when Chelsea Football Club signed a player called Peter Barota, the slang became “I like your new Peter” as in Peter Barota –motor. Barota’s retirement meant that the old form returned. There are also examples of different neighbourhoods within the East End using different rhymes for similar things.

I remember my father singing a little song to me when I was a small child. To the tune of “Rambling Rose” he went through the parts of the body giving their full rhymes and translations. I can’t remember the exact words he sang but the rhymes went like this:

Rambling rose-nose

Boat race-face

Barnet Fair-hair

Mince Pies- eyes

North ‘n’ South- mouth

Hampstead Heath- teeth

Gregory Peck- neck

Chalk Farms-arms

Scotch pegs-legs

Plates o’ meat-feet.

For most of the rhymes only the first part of the couple would be used, as in “get it down your Gregory, my son” which is the time honoured introduction to sensible drinking.

Sometimes there is a rhyme for a rhyme. So, Aristotle is the rhyme for bottle. Bottle an’ glass is the rhyme for arse. So if you are told to “shift your aris” you are being requested to hurry up and move your posterior. To make things even simpler bottle is also the slang for courage. When his courage fails a Cockney will say “my bottle went”. This may have something to do with fact that fear can have a laxative effect, so the Rhyming Slang is actually in effect too.

A few days ago I posted a hub written in Cockney Rhyming Slang. You can read it here.

http://hubpages.com/hub/cockney-rhyming-slang-the-real-stuff

I’m not going to explain every single rhyme but I will provide a loose translation of what I said. See if you can work out how I arrive at my translation. Oh yeah, in the other hub I have also tried to reproduce the dropped aitches and glottal stop for ‘t’ that we are so fond of. I think I flattened a few vowels too.

Some hubbers have asked me to write a hub in Cockney Rhyming Slang. Listen carefully and I will explain in ways that were beyond my schoolteachers.

I woke up this morning and pulled on my trousers. I went to the bathroom urinated, cleaned my face and teeth and combed my hair. Then I felt the effects of last night’s curry and a full evacuation was necessary. Sitting back on the bed I put on socks and boots and a clean shirt. I went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea. Realising there was only left over vegetables in the fridge I cooked bubble and squeak for breakfast.

The sun was out so I took a walk down the road. I met a friend and he repaid the ten pounds he owed me. After a chat we realised that it was opening time and went for a beer in the pub. The barmaid was very attractive with a comely behind and fine breasts. I wanted to get to know her better but her husband arrived and stared at me. I was a trifle scared and left the public house quickly. The landlord was an ex-pugilist and had very large hands and feet. I did not wish to tangle with him.

Along the street I met someone selling legally questionable jewellery. As Christmas was coming I decided to get some for my wife and my sister. Not wanting to draw attention to the deal we went down some stairs where I bought the jewellery which was of very high quality.

At the end of the day I went home to bed and sleep.

Not much of a story I know but it did allow me to write in my indigenous language.