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Oo-yor. The Leicester accent and dialect is undergoing its biggest change for decades. Is the way we speak, me duck, under threat?

We hear it every day. The Leicester accent and dialect is so part of the fabric of everyday life here that we almost take it for granted. Maybe, though, it’s about time we stopped.

Because one day, those clipped vowels and ’ey up me ducks; theooyorbeauties and Leicestors; the croggies and oakies and the general notion that youloveityoudodontyor will disappear.

The Leicester accent and dialect we’ve had for the best part of 1,000 years is undergoing its biggest change for decades.

Who says so? Linguistics expert Diane Davies says so. Dr Davies is an associate tutor and former lecturer in applied linguistics at the University of Leicester. She knows about these things.

It is not unusual that our accent and dialect should change. Language and accents are real, living things. They develop and change all the time. It’s just that now that, today, that change seems to be happening at a faster rate. The Leicester accent is slowly dying out.

“It is less pronounced,” says Dr Davies. “We have studied the way people speak from all areas of Leicestershire; old and young, male and female. There was a marked difference in the speech of older people from Leicestershire. Their accent and dialect was far more pronounced than teenagers and young people.”

Why? It’s hard to pin it down to one, over-riding factor, says Dr Davies. It’s far more likely the influence of all sorts of modern factors that is changing the way we speak.

We are more mobile today. We are not rooted in the community where we were born. We have a easier access to a wide range of media. Music, youth culture and TV programme play a part.

Demographics, too. Leicester is changing. About 45 per cent of the city’s residents are white British compared with 61 per cent in the previous survey, in 2001.

This influx of Asian and African-Caribbean people to Leicester has had a profound affect on the way the city sounds – although, this clearly works both ways, too, with several second and third generation, even first generation, migrants speaking English with a notable Leicester accent.

The death of traditional industries – the hosiery factories in Leicester, the coalfield of north west Leicestershire and the erosion of farming in the rural parts of south and east Leicestershire – will also have an affect.

“Words and sayings that were part and parcel of this way of life, that have been with us for decades, will inevitably die off as the industry or the way of life that spurred it dies off.”

As life evolves and cities change, so does the way we communicate.

Today, you’re arguably more likely to hear a Leicester accent in the suburbs of Thurmaston, Birstall or Groby than you are in the city.

But what is it, exactly, this Leicester accent? It’s a hard accent to describe – and a difficult accent to pull off for actors and thespians. “Not many people have managed it,” says Dr Davies. “Many have tried and many have failed.”

In literature, only DH Lawrence really got it right. “And that’s because he was from Nottingham. His books – which are nearly 100 years old – remain the best representation of an East Midlands accent.”

Settle for a slightly watered-down Yorkshire or Manchester accent and you’re missing the mark. Ditto, if you plump for a slightly less nasal Brummie accent.

The speech patterns of Leicester – and Nottingham and South Derbyshire – are much more nuanced than that.

“Leicester might be geographically close to Birmingham but the accent is very different,” says Dr Davies.

And yet you hear people from London and the south say that Leicester people sound like Brummies?

“Well, they might say that but they are wrong. The Leicester accent is nothing like a Birmingham accent.”

The differences between Leicester and Birmingham date back to Viking times and the creation of The Danelaw.

The Danelaw was a clearly defined part of England under Viking rule from 886 AD until the 11th century. Their territory was east of an imaginary line that cut Britain diagonally in half, from the Thames up to Chester.

This influenced dialect boundaries: East Anglia and the East Midlands were within the Danelaw. The West Midlands was not.

The many place names in Leicestershire ending in “-by’’ – meaning village or homestead (Oadby, Frisby, Kirby, for example) – have Scandinavian roots.

“These were distinctly separate areas and have been for centuries, which is one of the reasons why the accents and dialects are so different.”

The Leicester accent, the Nottingham accent, has its origins here, says Dr Davies.

You may find a small amount of cross-pollination in parts of west Leicestershire – around Ashby and areas off the M42 – but the influence is fairly recent and still quite small.

The Leicester accent is a hotchpotch of all sorts of influences: north, north west, north east, Staffs, the south; all moulded together to form one unique and occasionally hard-to-fathom dialect. And it’s still developing and changing.

More than a quarter of the Leicester population – 27 per cent – is aged 20 or under, according to the 2011 census. This makes Leicester one of the youngest cities in the country.

The next generation of Leicester people will have different linguistic influences and the accent will change again. “It was noticeable in our recordings that young people today spoke with a far less pronounced Leicester accent than their parents and grandparents,” says Dr Davies.

Leicester’s youth, its changing demographic and more general influences of the 21st century – media, better geographical mobility – will also change the way we speak.

At Taylor Road Primary School, in Highfields, Leicester, the children speak 42 different languages.

“It’s bound to make a difference to the way we speak and I’m sure that’s happening,” says head teacher Chris Hassell.

And yet, still, among this melting pot of global linguistics, you can still hear a Leicester accent.

“And I love that,” he says. “I love the Leicester accent – I love to hear that ‘ooyor’ sound, the ‘ey up me ducks, the mard-ehs, and bag-ons, jitties and yakking bricks.

“I can see how, eventually, it might die off. But it’s a long, slow process. Things might be changing – but I still hear it. I hear it from people who have lived here all their lives and I pick up certain inflections from kids or mums and dads who haven’t been here that long but have picked up certain words or syllables. I hope that never dies.

“You know, when I was a lad, growing up in Nottingham with a bit of an accent, my very ambitious mother said she wanted to send me to elocution lessons. It was either that – or ballroom dancing lessons.

“I chose the dancing lessons. So these days I can tango and waltz like a good un’ – but I still speak prop-oh Leicest-or.”

When Dr Diane Davies first arrived in Leicester 12 years ago, she was fascinated by the accent and dialect. “I’d spent all my life studying language and linguistics. I’d never heard an accent like this one.

“Two things stood out and I remember them to this day: I heard a window cleaner say to me: ‘We’ll just take us brushes round the back.’ I’d never heard that before.

“And then I was booking a taxi one night and the chap on the other end of the phone – this deep voice, obviously from an older, possibly sizeable man – said he couldn’t get a cab to me. ‘I’m sorry about that, m’duck,’ he said. And immediately I didn’t feel so angry. I was pleasantly surprised by that.

“My guess is that, originally, it was deferential, people talking to a Duke who they referred to as ‘My Duke’, which, gradually, over time, lost its meaning and deference.”

It is an unusual accent, Dr Davies says, full of linguistic contradictions, but idiosyncratic and charmingly economical. We should cherish that and proudly proclaim it, she says.

“You see all sorts of surveys about accents and people from Liverpool or Newcastle or Wales being proud of their accent. The Leicester/Nottingham accent gets overlooked.

“It’s never picked out as one of the worst accents, but, also, it’s never highlighted as one of those accents that people like either. I think the people of Leicestershire should stand up and be proud of their accent.

So, you want to speak Leicester? You do? Course you do, me duck. Pull up a chair and read our easy-to-follow eight-part guide.

1 Every word that ends in a y, please change to -eh.

So, for example, you have a friend called Shelly. She lives in Hinckley. You plan to watch a well-known Hugh Laurie film on her television at the weekend.

If you’re a proper Leicester-ian you say it like this:“I’m off round Shell-eh’s in Hinckl-eh to watch Mayb-eh Bab-eh with Hugh Laur-eh on her tell-eh next Sat-deh.” And everyone, naturally, will understand precisely what you mean.

You know how practitioners of the Queen’s English are told to practice “How now brown cow’’ to perfect their elocution?

If you want to learn proper Leicester, you should try the little rhyme about Spandau Ballet’s Tony Hadley.

Say this, five times every morning before you leave the house: “Ton-eh Adl-eh Aht-ter Spandaah Ball-eh.” Before you know it, you’ll be good to go.

2 Another simple rule: every word that ends in -er, should be pronounced -or. Leicester, therefore, becomes Leicest-or.

If you’re unhappy about the rain, you’re unhappy about the “mank-eh weath-or.’’ Or, If you’re at the supermarket and a woman asks you if you want cheese you should pronounce: “I dunt know if I want Red Leicestor or Cheddor. Which is cheapor?”

She will understand you perfectly.

3. It’s only right you will ask about price. As a person from Leicester, you are renowned for your prudence.

In Skegness, the July fortnight – the two weeks when the factories used to close and Leicester folk would travel, en masse, to the coast – is widely referred to as the Chisit fortnight: the time when people from Leicester arrive, pointing at things and asking, relentlessly: “Owmuchissit?’’

4.Most vowels sounds can be shortened. Even if they are short already, you can make them shorter. The Leicester lingo is all about brevity

It is not enough to shorten ‘Is it not’ to isn’t it. It’s ain’it.

Was it should become worrit.

Have you is a’ya?

Give it to me please is gizit.

Do you have it? – ayogorrit?

I like him, he seems trustworthy – izallrigtainteh?

I can’t stay to talk to you I’m afraid I have to work – icannastopimofftowok.

It may seem like a harsh collision of vowels and consonants, like a different language, perhaps, but stick with it. This is an important part of the Leicester lingo.

This economic use of language saves you valuable time and syllables and ensures people unfortunate enough not to be from Leicester will not have the first clue what you are talking about.

Except, of course, where you don’t do that and elongate certain vowel sounds. Yes, we know. Confusing isn’t it? This is perhaps more prevalent in the northern corners of the county, around Coalville and Loughborough than Leicester itself but you can still hear it.

Someone old becomes ode. Told – tode. Feet – faayte. Cheese – chaaaayse.

5 Banged your thumb with a hammer? Stubbed your toe on the door? The exclamation of choice is: Ooyorbleed-or.

Depending on your age and whereabouts in Leicestershire you are from, this can vary, however.

You could also use: ooyorfight-or, ooyorbod, ooyorbugg-or, ooyordevil, ooyorrazz-or or, if there are no children present, the prince of ooyors and only to be used on rare occasions of great pain or supreme surprise: Ooyorf***-or.

6 Ladies: saying ooowweeeeeerrrr – very loudly in a rising and falling inflection can be used in an argument and usually cannot be beaten.

Likewise, if you’re in conversation with someone and you generally share their view or agree with their sentiment, a loud, semi-coherent arrrrrr’ every now and again is enough to keep things ticking along.

7 Met an old friend in Gallowtree Gate and can’t remember his or her name?

Don’t worry. Just call them me duck.

Even if you know their name and have been their friend for decades, me duck is still fine.

One of the finest things about living in Leicester is that you can call everyone – from a short-haired feminist to a gruff bloke on the bus – me duck.

It’s the term of endearment that transcends age, gender, sexual preference, class, race and species. If you know someone really well you can even call them duckeh. Yep, even if you’re a man. It’s perfectly acceptable.

8 Even though this is perfectly acceptable in Leicester, if you can’t bring yourself to call another man me duck, then buddeh will suffice.

With thanks to the excellent blog site:

www.leftlion.co.uk