Y'alright?

Last night I listened to the excellent 'Fry's English Delight', a Radio 4 programme about language and linguistics presented by that champion of all things wordy, Stephen Fry.

During this final part of the series (which you can listen to here if you're quick), Fry discusses language and class. Do we, the English, still judge people on the way they speak?

There's a short part about U and non-U - the old language of the upper class (U), and the old language of the middle class (non-U). 'There was a very famous list of word variants,' says Fry. 'One was very U, or "upper", the other not the kind of things the upper classes would use at all - very "non-U".'

So if you were upper class, you were more likely to use a table napkin than serviette, wear glasses than spectacles, and visit the lavatory than toilet. Something else that would mark you out as non-U was an incorrect response to 'How do you do?' Say 'Pleased to meet you' and you were clearly a class or two below. The correct response, of course, was 'How do you do?' A simple repetition of the question.

And that got me thinking about my Australian friend, Sally. Walking along the Regent's Canal a few weeks ago, enjoying the Shoreditch Festival, a man walked past and said 'Y'alright?' I smiled, nodded and responded, 'Y'alright?' - just repeating his question. But Sal didn't. She made the mistake of feeling engaged in conversation and said, 'Good, thanks. How are you?'

I tried to explain that 'Y'alright' doesn't need an answer. Not in east London or Essex, at least. It's more a friendly nod, a raise of the eyebrows, a smile.

I found this when I was living in San Jose, California, five years ago. Often I'd smile and say 'Y'alright?' as I passed fellow students at university. They'd stop and say, 'Really good, thanks. How are you?' The number of people I ignored and backed away from because I couldn't think what to say next. This still happens to me sometimes in Cornwall.

If someone asked me how do I do, I'd tell them I was fine. And I'd thank them. They'd then know I wasn't upper class. If I then said 'Y'alright?' and they told me whether they were all right or not, I'd know they weren't from east London or Essex. Maybe not from the south east at all.

So, yes, class still plays a part in our language. But so does geography and environment and upbringing and education and aspiration and so much more. That's why language has always and will always fascinate me. That's why it's such a delight.