Well, if we're all doing it...

I fear this will be a significantly less cosmopolitan tale than my fellow posters, but here goes. I'm entirely brummie, aside from my paternal grandmother who was born and brought up in Wales, at least for the first 20 years or so of her life. The net result, as she and her brother used to look after me before I was old enough to go to school, was a slight Welsh tinge to an otherwise brummie accent, a penchant for leeks, and an ability to sing 'the little saucepan is boiling on the fire' in Welsh. Other than that, it's all brum. But, we're an interesting mix unto ourselves. Living near the Black Country means that brummies from my part of the city have a fairly distinct regional dialect: not only do we all sound like Ozzy Osborne, but we have different words for stuff too. For example: the phrase "I dae want a piece from yam yow, tarra a bit.' translates as 'I don't want a sandwhich from you, good-bye.' Whilst recognising that deepest darkest Devon and its environs has a much more interesting dialect tradition, it's still pretty neat. And enough to make us the linguistic butt of many a jest. (Ye olde brummie joke (say it in the accent) - what's the diference between a buffalo and a bison? You can't watch your hands in a buffalo.) And there's a certain amount of positive identity generated when you come from a city considered one of the worst in Britain, and with a population widely considered to be a few braincells short of basic literacy. This isn't entiely innacurate, though on the aesthetic side, there has been substantial redevelopment of the city centre, and not all of it is this ugly. In reality, the sprawling suburbs of the second city are very divided: the 'haves' concentrated around Solihull, (those living within in it emphasizing the last syllable and pronouncing the first to rhyme with 'holy', the rest of us referring to the place as 'solly' (ryhme with molly) 'ull.') And the 'have-nots' sprawl everywhere else. The former vote Tory, go to the cricket at Edgbaston and recitals at Birmingham University Conservertoire. The latter vote labour, watch the footie at villa park or St Andrews (but never the twain shall meet) and occasionally get casual work washing up after fancy recitals at the university. And being such a loarge city means that the only way to have a decent quality of life means having a car. Those who don't venture from sprawling estate to sprawling estate on foot or by sometimes dangerous public transport. And by estate, I'm not referring to any of your deer and Capability Brown nonsense.

I would hope that in 20 years time, brummies have shaken off their inferiority complex and have taken advantage of the many opportunities for young people in the city. Many do live below the poverty line, and strong local councils are effective in terms of their long term strategic efforts to make education a grass roots and accessible commodity. But the rule of chav culture and inverse anti-education snobbery prevails, and in the search for an identity, more and more kids of tender teenage years turn to early Mother and Father-hood.

The story in Hamilton, from what I have learned thus far, is suprisingly similar. Stay tuned.