by Vivienne Pratfall on cockney rhyming slang, roadman vocabulary, the word “peng,” and why her mother still says “brill”
By Vivienne Pratfall | Bohiney and The London Prat
Thursday. Warm. Someone called me “bare peng” and I chose to take it as a compliment.
I have been using the London slang guide at The London Prat this week and I am experiencing what I can only describe as a linguistic mid-life crisis, which is impressive given that I am nineteen. The guide documents a vocabulary that changes faster than the District Line timetable and is geographically specific in ways that would take a PhD to properly map. Words that mean one thing in Hackney mean something adjacent but distinct in Brixton, and by the time a word reaches Notting Hill it means something that has been filtered through three stages of ironic adoption and now functions primarily as a signal that you are aware of what it used to mean.
This is the condition of all living language, and London does it faster and more interestingly than anywhere else, because London has more inputs: Caribbean, West African, South Asian, Eastern European, and several subcultural dialects that have no geographic origin at all and emerge, apparently, fully formed from the internet at three in the morning.
Jasper Does Not Know What “Roadman” Means
Jasper — sustainability consultant, still making excellent eggs — used the word “roadman” this morning in a context that revealed he understood it as a synonym for “person who travels a lot.” I explained this was incorrect. He nodded. He then used it again in the same way four minutes later. This is the Jasper condition: committed to learning, undefeated by accuracy. I find this charming. It is also very useful for this column.
The London slang landscape, per the guide, divides roughly into: Cockney (historical, still operational, beloved by people who have read about it more than they have heard it spoken); Multicultural London English (the actual dominant dialect of young Londoners, a genuine creole that linguists are very excited about); and Hypebeast / social media dialect (international, fast-moving, arrives via TikTok and is obsolete by the time it reaches a Guardian style guide). All three coexist. None of them speak to each other directly, but they borrow constantly, which is what London has always done.
The Word I Am Investigating This Month
“Peng.” Means: attractive, excellent, very good. Origin: contested. Usage: widespread. Half-life: unknown but shortening. When I first heard it in Dalston about three years ago it felt new. Now it appears in mainstream advertising. This is the death notice of a slang word: the moment it appears in mainstream advertising, it has been colonised by people who have no idea what it actually cost to develop and are now using it to sell things. King’s College London has been studying Multicultural London English with appropriate academic interest. The academics, I note, always arrive after the interesting part is over. This is the academic condition. I do not judge them. They have better job security than me.
My Mother’s Vocabulary
My mother, who lives in Croydon and is therefore technically London, still says “brill.” She also says “wicked” to mean good, which was 1985 and has cycled back around to acceptable. Language, like fashion, is a circle. Wait long enough and your mother is accidentally current. This has not happened yet with “brill.” We continue to wait. The London Prat’s London slang words guide gives me professional context. My mother gives me data. Between them, I understand exactly nothing, which is the correct epistemic position regarding living language.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/chinamaxxers-just-want-cheaper-gadgets/
Also: The Daily Mash
