Accent Banter = The constant, unnecessary radar located in all
Londoners head's when they hear a Bradford
accent. This triggers the seemingly immediately
need to affirm where I’m from, what my accent is,
and what the hell I’m doing here. Usually followed
by a hilarious Yorkshire pudding joke.
Accent banter is the kind of thing that is perfectly acceptable during freshers week and to break the ice with new flatmates, but slowly gets on your tits when you can’t ask directions or buy an overpriced pint of cider and black without being interrogated by a bunch of strangers.
It can be slightly amusing for 5 minutes, so long as the interrogator is attractive/not a weirdo/a potential uni mate. However it can be abused in certain circumstances, i.e desperate losers in a pub using my accent as a conversation starter for chatting up my mate, while I sit in a corner counting beer mats.
Sometimes I just need to have a good old rant; which explains the inspiration for this blog title….
