Tuesday, 21 July 2009

Shot By Both Sides

I just had me what alcoholics call a moment of clarity.

I was watching a local comedian I used to vaguely know on a television comedy show. And I suddenly realised why Southerners think us Geordies are so naturally funny.

It's because we've got funny voices. That's it, isn't it? Funny voices. Anything we say, whether it's the complete text of Briggflats or 'brand new customers only', is just so funny, isn't it? Because of the voices. Because we sound so silly. So un-serious. So goddam fucking dumb.

Bastards. It doesn't matter what we do. We can invent the fucking lightbulb and they'll still treat us as comic relief.

You'll note I use the term 'we' in the above. Because, as I mentioned below, I have a non-Geordie voice. I could pass. I could pretend to be one of them. Some home counties c**t blabbing on about culcha. I won't though. Because even though I may not sound like it, I love this part of the country. I love Penshaw Monument, I love the Quayside, I love Tynemouth Metro and the market they have there, I love the view from Beacon Lough as you drive down towards Low Fell and the Team Valley, I love Marsden Rock, I love Durham, I love Darlington Railway Station, I love Pity Me and No Place, I love Mowbray Park and crossing the bridge in Sunderland, looking out over the harbour, I love fish 'n' chips at South Shields, I love every single goddam thing about Newcastle. I even love Middlesbrough, for Satan's sake. This place may not be in my voice, but it's in my fucking blood.

The saddest thing is that this doesn't matter to an awful lot of the chip-on-the-shoulder pricks who inhabit this region. As soon as I open my mouth they peg me as a Southern ponce who needs a slap. Great.

It is my doom to never be able to be one of them, the Southern pillocks who laugh at us because of our funny accents, and yet also to never be one of us, the hard-bitten Geordie resistance who feed on the enemy if we must, but serve them only so we can wait our turn upon them. I love this place, could never betray it, could never mock it for the easy giggles of a Southern crowd; but, because me accent duzzent deviate suffishently frum re-seeved pronuncyation, I know that I'll be forever accused of not loving it enough.

Well, whatever, like. I'll do what I want to do. And if you don't like it, do what you have to do. I'll be me and I'll love what I love and I won't shut up about it. If I don't fit your silly little template, tough shite, mara.

(Mackems, Tykes, Smoggies etc: take heart. You're included in this post too. I'm using the word 'Geordie' here in the same way the Southern media ponces use it, to describe everyone who lives between Yorkshire and Scotland. I know, they're stupid. Fatha, forgive 'em, like, they divvent knaa what tha' deein'.)

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