by Max Myers

England is a class-based society. That’s a fact and if you’re not aware of it, then this post should clear it up for you. I was born right after WWII, in a British Military hospital, in Iserlohn, West Germany. My dad was a REME private and my mum, a German Catholic convent girl. They got married and had 3 kids. My brother is now very high up in the British School Authority. My sister, after having three of her own sons, has retired and moved to the south of France. I, at least initially, took a much different route. I was from, as the Americans would say, the “mean streets,” and after decades of adventuring, I ended up as a writer/director living in L.A. The power of reinvention.

My dad was from Bow, considered by many to be the birthright of the original Cockneys. I was raised in Dagenham (which is in London’s extended East End), numerous army postings around the world, and eventually in Basingstoke, Hants. In the 60s, the London Council decided to create ‘Newtowns’, which were basically massive council estates – ghettos or ‘hoods’ to Americans, and Basingstoke was one of them. Entire neighborhoods were moved out of London to these Newtowns. In was quite something to behold.

My dad never lost his Cockney accent, nor did he try to. He was very proud of his working class heritage, as was my granddad, also a Cockney. In fact, he was a Cockney Jew. I’ve never lost my Cockney accent, although having lived in the U.S. for over 33 years, it has softened, until I have a pint of Newkey with some of my Brit mates and it comes right back, strong and proud as ever.

Since time-in-memorial, the British aristocracy have ruled over the lower classes, which were comprised of two levels. There is the grammar-school-educated Middle Class, who strive to be upwardly mobile, with their affectedly refined tea-and-crumpets accent. And then there’s everybody else — the much maligned backbone of the nation, from all points north and south, east and west, the Working Class. Much maligned you ask? Yes. You see, historically, we’ve been cannon fodder for the Middle Class and Aristocracy. Even though we are the ones who worked our lives away in the British factories during the Industrial Revolution that turned England – a small island nation — into a world-class power. We are the ones who inhaled the fumes and worked until we died in the belching coal towns that D.H. Lawrence describes in his novels. We are the ones that Joseph Conrad describes so lovingly as the MEN who made the British mercantile fleet and the British navy the best the world has ever seen (See his classic short story “Typhoon”). And yes, the greater percentage of British actors, musicians, writers, poets and filmmakers come from the Great Unwashed – the Working Class.

And thereby lays the rub.

No matter how successful, no matter what fame and fortune may come knocking, they (i.e. we) would always be looked upon as less than. Just ask Michael Caine how he feels. Not having the right background, breeding, upbringing, education and class, is a constant reminder that one is looked down upon. Over the last few decades, this has begun to level out, but only to a degree, fueled, in part, by the upsurge of the Great Pretender. They come in two varieties — those who seek to align themselves with a class above themselves and, those that come from said Middle and Upper classes, yet seek to have street cred by imitating a Mockney accent – Mock and Cockney: Mockney. A fact that few Americans are aware of but that every member of the British Working Class knows like the back of his hand is that Middle Class laddie and rock star, Mick Jagger, in an effort to capture a bit of street cred, adopted the Mockney accent. Both the Great Pretender and the downwardly mobile Mockney man make me sick to my stomach and bring back all the awful memories of having endured years of classism.

My brother is a Great Pretender. Born to a Working Class family, he inherited the Cockney accent, was educated in Secondary Modern schools, and through his own hard work, was the first in my family to go to University. He became a teacher, and continued to rise through the ranks to the high position he holds now. Unfortunately, when one speaks to him now, he sounds like a toff, one of the grammar school educated Middle Class. All traces of his heritage have been systematically eradicated. Very sad but in a way, precisely because of the class system, somewhat understandable and, perhaps, forgivable.

And then there are those that hail from the Middle Class, and some members of the aristocracy. These folks, to me, are the vilest of the vile. Why? Because they are the very same hypocritical, arrogant, miscreants that have been told their entire lives that they’re better than the Working Class and they BELIEVE IT. That those people are to be avoided at all cost and put down and mocked at every opportunity. Except, of course, most of these essentially cowardly souls lack the grit, the basic courage, to do so in the real. So what happens instead is the snide remark, the snickering glance, or worst of all, that those people are passed over for promotion so that one their people can get the gig.

What you have to understand is being one of those people and having endured the endless prejudice first hand, when someone disingenuously imitates a Cockney, or a Scouser, or whichever part of the UK one comes from, it justifiably brings out a deep-seated anger toward the perpetrator of the injustice. A glaring example of this was the recent post which appeared on All Things Crime Blog from a  middle-class individual who hides behind the handle, Pitchforks: “From Knuckle-Dusters to Whole-Meal Scones: The Rise and Fall of the British Yobbo”.

Although Pitchforks’ post may not have been intended to offend, and –in fact — was rather humorous if viewed in a certain tolerant light, the whole matter quickly degenerated in the commentary that followed the post and descended into exactly the type of vile stereotyping that the Working Class had had to endure for literally hundreds of years.

Here is what happened: When I, and other readers posted an admonition, Pitchforks responded in Old London slang, the type heard in Oliver Twist movies; his rather offensive interpretation of a Working Class, Cockney lad. It was not funny. Why? Here’s why. In my life, I’ve encountered this far too many times — Middle  Class  prats  that  for  whatever  reason  want  more  street  cred,  so  they pretend to have Working Class roots yet lack any actual respect for our  rich Working Class culture, or the dignity to be truthful about who they really are.

Here’s an unfortunate example of Pitchforks’ lamentable response to having his bluff called:

“I re-iterate, may’. Don’ be callin’ me a fuckin’ fairy or a “cow”, or Oi’ll pu’ your smug mug in a knuckle san’widge… You need to git your fac’s strayt. You bin wawned…..”

Which means: “I reiterate, mate, don’t be calling me a fucking fairy or a cow, or I’ll put your smug mug in a knuckle sandwich. You need to get your facts straight. You’ve been warned.” 

Hmm, let me see: “smug mug in a knuckle sandwich.” Now this is truly hysterical. No one, no male or female that I’ve ever known in England, would ever say, “put your…” The phrasing is preposterous. What would actually be said would go more like this, “Oy, ya smug cunt, you lookin’ to get knocked the fuck out?” That’s the masculine version, and, in some cases, the feminine.

There’s  little  that’s  needs  to  be  added  on  this  point  as  Pitchforks  has  adequately demonstrated exactly why the Working Class have no time for people of this ilk.

But  in  a  larger  sense  the  issue  comes  down  to  this.  As  long  as  the  Middle  Class,  the aristocracy, and even at times the Great Pretenders feel compelled to put down Working Class folks such as myself, they will never be mates of ours for the simple reason that while we may be —  in fact, we are – at times rough around the edges (and proud of it), we are always straight up and honest which – you must admit – is all a man can truly be.