Name That Accent

I was born a Scouser.  For most of my childhood, I held that accent, and my sister *always* held it.  Our mother (the Geordie) made us take diction classes because she couldn’t stand the sound.  Whilst my sister never got rid of it, I learnt to speak the Queen’s English, and my accent has faded quite a bit in these past 11 years of living in America.

Enter the multiplicity bit.

I don’t write about that often anymore– at least from such a personal perspective– but the past few days have been hysterical.  Apparently there is a young Scot with a fairly thick accent who has started chatting aloud to my best friend.  Poor dear.  🙂  He says he can understand her fine, and she does speak quite slowly.  She only learnt to speak aloud about a month ago.

So far, then, there are two Scots, a fair few Irish women, one who only speaks Irish, one who only speaks Welsh, and a Cockney along with the 250 or so standard English speakers.  One of the youngest has started referring to herself as International Little Peoples, which is hysterical.  And just about right these days.

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