Monday, 16 April 2012

Common as Muck.

I have never learned or wanted to learn how to watch my mouth, I prefer to watch other peoples. Occasionally I'll look in the mirror and I see my lips moving but I am far too busy talking to ever watch my P's & Q's.
I sometimes forget to sound my T's and I also have a tendency to drop my H's (aitches). I'm pretty sure I speak the Queens English, but only if the Queen had grown up on a rough East End council estate.

Speaking like a cockney sparrow will disarm people and they will look at you with fascination, amusement or wild, all consuming lust.
Sometimes it will be all three.
I've always tried to stay true to who I am by never losing my accent. It used to become even more pronounced if I found myself in the company of pretentious people or social climbers.  I could quite easily slip into a caricature of an East End barrow boy, which was great for my sex life but it can hinder a career, especially as I wanted to read the early evening news. I maybe could have got the gig as a weather girl but reading an auto cue about fuel shortages and worldwide famine in the style of Eliza Doolittle was never going to carry me far.

If you fancy yourself as Pygmalion it's best to underplay your language skills in the first place. Being good with words and being good with your mouth are two totally different things.

The way we speak can open doors or cause them to be slammed in our faces. My accent isn't threatening or intimidating (unless I'm wearing a balaclava and carrying a gun) and although it isn't as pronounced as when I was younger, it's pretty obvious that I could be up for a part in a Guy Ritchie movie, although I'm not half as common as anyone in Eastenders. 
I have also learned to temper my language as I've grown older. I no longer frigg and f*ck as much as I used to or as much as I'd like to, but then again who does these days? You say the wrong thing, open your mouth at the wrong time and you'll only end up with a case of Chlamydia.
 I've learned that a little bit of profanity goes a long way - you just have to choose your dirty words very carefully. Effing this and effing that will only make you sound effing stupid. 
Royalty and babies are the only people who make swearing fun so unless you're wearing a tiara or a diaper there's no need to pepper your personality with profanity. Posh people can sometimes get away with swearing because although they make it sound awfully polite, they also make it sound terribly filthy. Whenever I hear a posh person swear I immediately think of them naked, except for a pair of riding boots and a top hat, and sometimes they are in a stable eating a bale of hay.

Your accent says a lot about you and if you suddenly lose it or it becomes affected then the only message you're going to be sending across is that you're false and trying too hard. I'm all for self improvement but not at the expense of my character. I do have a telephone voice and it's the same tone I use when I'm having sex. I drop an octave and I round my vowels - It's the same vocalisation method Whitney Houston used on her last tour. I just manage to hold my last note that little bit longer.

Whatever your accent it shouldn't really matter. It's what you say that counts and I've had a lot of people tell me that when they read my blog it's like I am talking to them, that they feel they can really hear my true voice. . . .

Which is really rather lovely.
Except I'd never say "oh, that's really rather lovely".

I'm more likely to say "oh, fanks mate but you shouldn't believe every fing you read".

(before you call the spelling police, read it aloud, it's the way I talk, innit).

No comments:

Post a Comment