Dear Mr Zverev,
I am writing to you because, in a press conference at the French Open tennis tournament, you expressed approval of the Yorkshire accent, as spoken by one of the journalists. I know the Yorkshire tourist board has already been in touch – and for all I know you might by now be the new face of Tetley tea, or some other firm that (unlike Tetley’s, which has long gone international) is still based in Yorkshire.
But I thought you might appreciate a few tips as you begin your journey into speaking Yorkshire. I myself was born in York, by the way, which is the true capital of the county (whatever people from Leeds might think).
It was particularly gratifying that you expressed your “love” of the accent, because most people who love the Yorkshire accent are actually from Yorkshire. The subject is much discussed, for example, in the Dalesman magazine, regarding which a word of explanation is in order. Yes, there are Daleswomen … and the Yorkshire Dales is one of the most beautiful areas of countryside in the world, although this is not the place to boast about our county, just because it happens to have a population greater than either New Zealand or the Republic of Ireland and is widely known (in Yorkshire) as “God’s own country”.
Where was I? Yes, I recently read quite a long article in the Dalesman about the pronunciation, in Yorkshire, of the word “hole”, which is one of the most useful Yorkshire words, and frequently pronounced hoil except without the “h”. (H, it must be admitted, has a rather hard time of it in Yorkshire.) Yorkshire folk see holes everywhere. A mouth, for instance, is a “cake hole”; an ear is an “ear hole” … and so we already have an opportunity to combine two phrases, hence: “Shut your cake hole, or I’ll belt you round the ear hole.” (“Please be quiet or I will belabour you about the side of the head.”)
Another very useful Yorkshire word is nowt, meaning “nothing”. A famous Yorkshire maxim (of which there are literally hundreds, traditionally inscribed on tea towels) runs: “If in doubt, say nowt.”
Of course, in your own field of tennis, the word for nothing is “love”, and I would encourage you to pronounce this in the Yorkshire way – luv– rather than larve, as they do at Wimbledon. Vowels are usually short in Yorkshire, partly to save time. So at Wimbledon you will be playing on grass (rhymes with “ass”) – rather than grass (rhymes with farce) – courts. (I should stress, Mr Zverev, that Wimbledon is not in Yorkshire.)
Unfortunately, the tyro Tyke (or trainee Yorkshireman) must confront the technical matter of the glottal stop, which is employed in place of the definite article. Before a vowel, there is a grudging acknowledgement of the banished “the”: hence “in t’end” (“in the end”). Where a consonant is involved, “the” all but disappears, replaced by a quick opening and shutting of the glottis, hence “on t’ bed” – though without the “t”).
I can see that these complications might be dispiriting to a beginner, even one who – like yourself – speaks German, Russian and that variant of Yorkshire known as English. But I would urge you to clog on (keep going) and I wish you all the best for Wimbledon. I hope you will not be plagued unduly by the collywobbles (nerves) and I might I suggest that, if you really can’t say nowt after double-faulting, an exclamation of flippin ’eck! would fit the bill nicely.
