{"id":1758,"date":"2017-08-21T06:00:24","date_gmt":"2017-08-21T05:00:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/davidwithington.com\/?p=1758"},"modified":"2017-08-20T18:52:48","modified_gmt":"2017-08-20T17:52:48","slug":"wigan-dialect","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/davidwithington.com\/wigan-dialect\/","title":{"rendered":"\u200b How to Impress Your Foreign Visitor with Pure Wiganese"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Foreign<\/a><\/div>\n
“Hey, Mum!<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“There’s this band at church…<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“And they’re all young people from Germany…<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“And you know I’m learning German at night school, right?”<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Mum knew what was coming.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“Yes…?”<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“Well… could one of the band members stay with us, please?<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“It’ll be for only one night.”<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“Of course,” replied my Mum. “No problem at all.”<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
I knew I could rely on good old Mum.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Plus, I would get chance to practice some German language – on a real German.<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Meet Max (who wasn’t Max)<\/span><\/h2>\n
<\/div>\n
The band was great.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Not a rock band. It was a brass band.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
The Germans are great at that sort of thing.<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"German<\/a>
The Germans are great at brass bands<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
And after the concert, we brought home our allocated band member.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Now, just to let you know…<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
That was almost 40 years ago.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
So I must apologise for forgetting the lad’s name.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
But, for the sake of this story, we’ll just call him Max.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
What happened next, though, I’ll remember for ever.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
When we arrived home, my Dad was sitting in his favourite chair, watching television.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
So off went the TV.<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"The<\/a>
The TV was turned off<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
It was time to chat.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
And it was also time to impress my parents with my new German language skills.<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

What Max Really Wanted<\/span><\/h2>\n
However, Max had other ideas.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
He,\u00a0of course, wanted to practice his English.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
So, just like the perfect British hosts would do, we spoke English all evening.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
It was an enjoyable conversation. Time passed quickly, Mum served supper, and Max told us he’d like to retire for the evening.<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Everyone<\/a>
Bed time<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Dad’s Moment to Impress<\/span><\/h2>\n
Now, my Dad had a broad Wigan dialect.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
He was proud of his roots, and he used his strong accent to prove it.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
And when he wanted to, he certainly could “lay it on thick”.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Aye. Dad knew how fot speyk proper<\/em>.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
And this evening was going to be one of those times.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
So Dad turned to Max and asked…<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“Wot tahm duz\u00a0tha wanna gerrup int mornin’?”<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
There was an awkward pause.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
You know, one of those moments when no one knows what to say.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Max\u00a0looked perplexed. Dad\u00a0looked smug.\u00a0<\/span>I wanted to laugh.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
But instead, I turned to Max and said – using the first bit of German language I’d managed to speak all night…<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“What time would you like to get up in the morning?”<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Yes, my Dad knew how to steal the show.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
And I was so proud of him.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Oh, and I managed to impress Mum and Dad with my German, after all.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Over the next few years, I continued to learn German at night school, although I’ve forgotten much of it now.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
But it never came close to that best language of all…<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Wiganese.<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Ey-up! Am reet, tha knows. Am’ta?<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n