Watching the English

by Kate Fox

  To many foreign visitors, the ‘And one for yourself?’ ritual seems like an unnecessarily circuitous and complicated way of giving a tip – a gesture accomplished almost everywhere else in the world (and, indeed, everywhere in England apart from the pub) by the simple handing over of a few coins. A bemused American, to whom I explained the rule, expressed incredulity at the ‘Byzantine’ nature of English pub etiquette, and a French visitor bluntly dismissed the entire procedure as ‘typical English hypocrisy’.

  Although other foreigners told me that they found our convoluted courtesies charming, if somewhat bizarre, I have to admit that those two critics both had a point. English rules of politeness are undeniably rather complex, and, in their tortuous attempts to deny or disguise the realities of status differences, clearly hypocritical. But, then, surely all politeness is a form of hypocrisy: almost by definition, it involves pretence. The sociolinguists Penelope Brown and Stephen Levinson argue that politeness ‘presupposes [the] potential for aggression as it seeks to disarm it, and makes possible communication between potentially aggressive parties’. Also in the context of a discussion of aggression, Jeremy Paxman observes that our strict codes of manners and etiquette seem ‘to have been developed by the English to protect themselves from themselves’.

  We are, perhaps more than many other cultures, intensely conscious of class and status differences. George Orwell correctly described England as ‘the most class-ridden country under the sun’. Our labyrinthine rules and codes of polite egalitarianism are a disguise, an elaborate charade, a severe collective case of what psychotherapists would call ‘denial’. Our polite egalitarianism is not an expression of our true social relations, any more than a polite smile is a manifestation of genuine pleasure or a polite nod a signal of real agreement. Our endless pleases disguise orders and instructions as requests; our constant thank-yous maintain an illusion of friendly equality; the ‘And one for yourself?’ ritual requires an extraordinary act of communal self-deception, whereby we all agree to pretend that nothing so vulgar as money or so degrading as ‘service’ is involved in the purchase of drinks in a bar.

  Hypocrisy? At one level, clearly, yes: our politenesses are all sham, pretence, dissimulation – an artificial veneer of harmony and parity masking quite different social realities. But I have always understood the term ‘hypocrisy’ to imply conscious, deliberate deception of others, whereas English polite egalitarianism seems to involve a collective, even collaborative, self-delusion. Our politenesses are evidently not a reflection of sincere, heartfelt beliefs, but neither are they cynical, calculating attempts to deceive. And perhaps we need our polite egalitarianism to protect us from ourselves – to prevent our acute consciousness of class differences from expressing itself in less acceptable ways.

  The Rules of Regular-speak

  I mentioned above, in the context of the pantomime rule, that there is a special code of etiquette governing the behaviour and speech of a pub’s ‘regulars’ (regular customers), which, among other privileges, allows them to break the pantomime rule. The special code does not, however, allow them to jump the invisible queue – as this would violate the overriding English rule about queuing, itself a subsidiary, it would seem, of a more general rule of Englishness about ‘fairness’. It is worth examining the rules of regular-speak in more detail, as they represent a ‘conventionalised deviation from convention’, which should provide further clues that will help us in our search for the defining characteristics of Englishness.

  Greeting Rules

  When a regular enters the pub, there will often be a chorus of friendly greetings from the other regulars, the publican and the bar staff. Publicans and bar staff always address regulars by name, and regulars always address the publican, bar staff and each other by name. Indeed, I have noticed that in the pub, names are used rather more often than is strictly necessary, as though to emphasise the familiarity and personal connections between members of this small ‘tribe’. This is particularly striking as a contrast to ‘mainstream’ English conversation codes, in which names are used significantly less than in other cultures, and where overuse of names is frowned upon as cloyingly American.

  The bonding effect among pub regulars is further reinforced by the use of nicknames – pubs are always full of people called ‘Shorty’, ‘Yorkshire’, ‘Doc’, ‘Lofty’, etc. To call someone by a nickname universally indicates a high degree of familiarity. Normally, only family and close friends use nicknames. The frequent use of nicknames between regulars, publican and bar staff gives them a sense of belonging – and gives us a helpful insight into the nature of social relations in English pubs.46 It is worth noting in this context that some regular pubgoers have a ‘pub-nickname’ that is not used by their friends and family outside the pub, and may not even be known to these groups. Pub-nicknames are often ironic: a very short regular may be known as Lofty, for example. In my own local pub, although I was normally known as ‘Stick’ (a reference to my rather scrawny figure), the landlord went through a phase of calling me ‘Pillsbury’.

  The greeting rules require the publican, bar staff and regulars to welcome a regular with a chorus of ‘Evening, Bill’, ‘Wotcha, Bill’, ‘All right, Bill?’, ‘Usual, is it, Bill?’, and so on. The regular must respond to each greeting, normally addressing the greeter by name or nickname: ‘Evening, Doc’, ‘Wotcha, Joe’, ‘All right there, Lofty’, ‘Usual, thanks, Mandy.’ The rules do not prescribe the exact words to be used in these exchanges, and one often hears inventive, idiosyncratic, humorous or even mock-insulting variations, such as ‘Ah, just in time to buy your round, Bill!’ or ‘Back again, Doc? Haven’t you got a home to go to?’

  The Rules of Coded Pub-talk

  If you spend hundreds of hours sitting eavesdropping in pubs, you will notice that many pub conversations could be described as ‘choreographed’, in the sense that they follow a prescribed pattern, and are conducted in accordance with strict rules – although participants are not conscious of this and obey the rules instinctively. While the rules of this choreographed pub-talk may not be immediately obvious to outsiders, the conversations can be followed and understood. One type of regular-speak, however, is utterly incomprehensible to outsiders, and can be understood only by the regular customers of a particular pub. This is because the regulars are effectively speaking in code, using a private language. Here is my favourite typical example of coded pub-talk, from the etiquette research:

  The scene is a busy Sunday lunchtime in a local pub. A few REGULARS are standing at the bar, where the PUBLICAN is serving. A male REGULAR enters, and by the time he reaches the bar, the PUBLICAN has already started pouring his usual pint. The PUBLICAN places the pint on the counter in front of the REGULAR, who fishes in his pocket for money.

  REGULAR 1: ‘Where’s meat-and-two-veg, then?’

  PUBLICAN: ‘Dunno, mate – should be here by now.’

  REGULAR 2: ‘Must be doing a Harry!’

  (All laugh.)

  REGULAR 1: ‘Put one in the wood for him, then – and yourself?’

  PUBLICAN: ‘I’ll have one for Ron, thanks.’

  To decode this conversation, you would need to know that the initial question about ‘meat and two veg’ was not a request for a meal, but an enquiry as to the whereabouts of another regular, nicknamed ‘Meat-and-two-veg’ because of his rather stolid, conservative nature (meat with two vegetables being the most traditional, unadventurous English meal). Such witty nicknames are common: in another pub, there is a regular known as TLA, which stands for Three Letter Acronym, because of his penchant for business-school jargon.

  One would also have to know that ‘doing a Harry’, in this pub, is code for ‘getting lost’, Harry being another regular, a somewhat absent-minded man, who once, three years ago, managed to get lost on his way to the pub, and is still teased about the incident. ‘Put one in the wood for him’ is a local version of a more common pub-talk expression, meaning ‘Reserve a pint of beer to give him when he arrives, whi
ch I will pay for now’. (The more usual phrase is ‘Put one in for . . .’ or ‘Leave one in for . . .’ – ‘Put one in the wood for . . .’ is a regional variation, found mainly in parts of Kent.) The phrase ‘And yourself?’ is shorthand for ‘And one for yourself?’, the approved formula for offering a drink. The ‘Ron’ referred to by the publican, however, is not a person, but a contraction of ‘later on’.

  So: Regular 1 is buying a drink now, to be served to the traditionalist Meat-and-two-veg when he arrives (assuming the latter has not repeated Harry’s mistake and got lost) and offering the publican a drink, which he accepts, but will not consume until later on, when he is less busy. Simple, really – if you happen to be a member of this particular pub-tribe, and familiar with all its legends, nicknames, quirks, codes, abbreviations and in-jokes.

  In our national scientific pub-crawls, we found that every pub has its own private code of in-jokes, nicknames, phrases and gestures. Like the ‘private languages’ of other social units, such as families, couples, school-friends and work-mates, this coded pub-talk emphasises and reinforces the social bonds between pub regulars. It also emphasises and reinforces the sense of equality among them. In the pub, your position in the ‘mainstream’ social hierarchy is irrelevant: acceptance and popularity in this liminal world are based on quite different criteria, to do with personal qualities, quirks and habits. ‘Meat-and-two-veg’ could be a bank manager or an unemployed bricklayer. His affectionately teasing nickname is a reference to his middle-of-the-road tastes, his rather conservative outlook on life. In the pub, he is liked, and mocked, for these idiosyncratic foibles; his social class and occupational status are immaterial. ‘Harry’ might be an absent-minded professor, or an absent-minded plumber. If he were a professor, he might be nicknamed ‘Doc’, and I heard of a plumber whose unfortunate pub-nickname was ‘Leaky’, but Harry’s absent-mindedness, not his professional rank, is the quality for which he is known, liked and teased at the Rose and Crown.

  So, coded pub-talk facilitates social bonding and reinforces egalitarian values. I mentioned earlier, however, that the primary function of all drinking-places, in all cultures, is the facilitation of social bonding, and that all drinking-places tend to be socially integrative, egalitarian environments – so what, if anything, is peculiarly English about the bonding and egalitarianism we find embedded in coded pub-talk?

  There are aspects of this pub-talk that do seem to be identifiably English, such as the celebration of eccentricity, the constant undercurrent of humour, the wit and linguistic inventiveness. But the ‘universal’ features of facilitation of bonding and egalitarianism are distinctive here only in the degree to which they deviate from the mainstream culture – which is characterised by greater reserve and social inhibition, and more pervasive and acute class-consciousness, than many other societies. It is not that sociability and equality are peculiar to English drinking-places, but that the contrast with our conventional norms is more striking, and that, perhaps, we have a greater need for the drinking-place as a facilitator of sociable egalitarianism – as a liminal world in which the normal rules are suspended.

  The Rules of the Pub-argument

  I mentioned earlier that regulars are not only exempt from the pantomime rule but are allowed to make remarks such as ‘Oi, Spadge, when you’ve quite finished your little chat, I wouldn’t mind another pint, if it’s not too much bloody trouble!’ Banter, backchat and mock-insults of this kind (often involving the use of heavy irony) are a standard feature of conversations between regulars and bar staff, and among fellow regulars.

  Pub-arguments, which are not like ‘real’ arguments in the ‘real world’, are an extension of this kind of banter. Arguing is probably the most popular form of conversation in pubs, particularly among males, and pub-arguments may often appear quite heated. The majority, however, are conducted in accordance with a strict code of etiquette, based on what must be regarded as the First Commandment of pub law: ‘Thou shalt not take things too seriously.’

  The rules of pub-arguments also reflect the principles enshrined in what might be called the ‘unwritten constitution’ governing all social interaction in this special environment. This pub constitution prescribes equality, reciprocity, the pursuit of intimacy and a tacit non-aggression pact. Students of human relations will recognise these principles as being among the foundations of all social bonding – and it seems that social bonding is indeed the underlying purpose of the pub-argument.

  It is collectively understood, although never stated, that the pub-argument (like the Mine’s Better Than Yours ritual described earlier) is essentially an enjoyable game. No strong views or deeply held convictions are necessary for pub regulars to engage in lively disputes – in fact, they would be a hindrance. Regulars will frequently start an argument about anything, or nothing, just for the fun of it. A bored regular will deliberately spark off an argument by making an outrageous or extreme statement, then sit back and wait for the inevitable cries of ‘Bollocks!’ The instigator must then hotly defend his assertion, which he secretly knows to be indefensible. He will then counter-attack by accusing his adversaries of stupidity, ignorance or something less polite. The exchange often continues in this manner for some time, although the attacks and counter-attacks tend to drift away from the original issue, moving on to other contentious matters – and the need to argue among male47 pub-goers is such that almost any subject, however innocuous, can become a controversial issue.

  Pubgoers have a knack for generating disputes out of thin air. Like despairing auctioneers taking bids from ‘phantom’ buyers, they will vehemently refute a statement nobody has made, or tell a silent companion to shut up. They get away with this because other regulars are also looking for a good excuse to argue. The following example, recorded in my own local pub, is typical:

  REGULAR 1: (accusingly): ‘What?’

  REGULAR 2: (puzzled): ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  REGULAR 1: ‘Yes, you did!’

  REGULAR 2: (still bemused): ‘No, I didn’t!’

  REGULAR 1: (belligerent): ‘You did, you said it was my round – and it’s not my round!’

  REGULAR 2: (entering into the spirit of things): ‘I didn’t bloody say anything, but now you come to mention it, it is your round!’

  REGULAR 1: (mock-outraged): ‘Bollocks – it’s Joey’s round!’

  REGULAR 2: (taunting): Then why are you hassling me about it, eh?’

  REGULAR 1: (now thoroughly enjoying himself): ‘I’m not – you started it!’

  REGULAR 2: (ditto): ‘Didn’t!’

  REGULAR 1: ‘Did!’

  And so on. As I sat watching, sipping my beer, smiling the tolerant-but-slightly-superior smile characteristic of females listening patiently to male pub-arguments, the dispute meandered into other issues, but the opponents continued to buy each other drinks, and by the end everyone had, as usual, forgotten what the argument was supposed to be about. The rules state that no one ever wins a pub-argument, and no one ever surrenders. (The pub-argument is one context in which the traditional English gentlemanly edict that ‘It is not the winning, but the taking part’ that matters, still holds true.) The antagonists remain the best of mates, and a good time is had by all.

  This sort of pointless, childish fight-picking might appear to be in contravention of the pub ‘constitution’, with its prescription of intimacy and non-aggression, but the fact is that arguing, for English males, is a crucial element of the pursuit of intimacy. The pub-argument allows them to show interest in one another, to express emotion, to reveal their personal beliefs, attitudes and aspirations – and to discover those of their companions. It allows them to become closer, more intimate, without acknowledging that this is their purpose. The pub-argument allows them to achieve intimacy under the macho camouflage of competition. The English male’s tendency to aggression is channelled into harmless verbal fisticuffs, with the ‘symbolic handshake’ of round-buying serving to prevent any escalation into more serious, physica
l violence.48

  Similar male-bonding arguments do, of course, take place outside the pub – among work-mates, for example, and among members of sports teams and clubs, or just among friends – and follow much the same rules. But the pub-argument is the best, most archetypal example of the English male-bonding argument. The English male-bonding argument also shares many features with similar practices in other cultures: all such ‘ritual disputes’ involve a tacit non-aggression pact, for example – in effect, an understanding that all the insults and attacks are not to be taken too seriously. What is distinctively English about the English version, it seems to me, is that our natural aversion to earnestness – and specifically our predilection for irony – makes this understanding much easier to achieve and to maintain.

  The Free-association Rule

  In the pub, even sticking to the same subject for more than a few minutes may sometimes be taken as a sign of excessive seriousness. Psychoanalysts use a technique called ‘free-association’, in which the therapist asks the patient to say whatever comes into his or her mind in association with a particular word or phrase. If you spend some time eavesdropping in pubs, you will notice that English pub-talk often exhibits the same qualities as free-association sessions, which may help to explain its socially therapeutic effects. In the pub, the normally reserved and cautious English shed some of their inhibitions, and give voice to whatever passing thought happens to occur to them.