The Last Word On Nothing

Several years ago the Economist published a chart for American expats in the UK. It disambiguated what British people say from what Americans hear them say. For example, “you’re very brave” does not mean “I think you are brave” when a Brit says it. It is more likely to mean “you are insane.”

I had been living on this small island for a year before I saw that article, and it took another year for me to digest that it was an entirely serious public service announcement, not the Economist uncharacteristically swerving into surrealist humour. Suddenly I was haunted by the number of the times I had been told I was “very brave”.

But these misunderstanding go both ways. How often I, an American, would say words that seemed completely uncontroversial, and bring conversations to a screeching, echoing halt.

Today I’d like to share a decade of hard-won knowledge with any desperate expats now suffering through that same confusion. Think of it as the obscure sequel to the above guide. I hope that the following selection of “bad homonyms” helps you understand why the words you’re using to speak to British people so often elicit twitching and grimaces.

Classics of the genre include pants, fag, and fanny (underwear, cigarette, and ladybits, respectively). These are the foundational elements of the best British-American horror stories – as one Brit friend recalled, on his first day at an American job, his boss instructed him to “go sit your fanny down in that chair”. 

Most expats get the “fag/fanny/pants” lecture at their leaving parties. But no one warns you about all the less obvious ways the British language warps your linguistic map, turning every interaction into a minefield of potential misunderstandings, as even the most basic words suddenly fail to provide solid ground. My first year in this country, I felt perpetually like I had taken very strong drugs. 

For example, in some contexts, pants can also mean diapers (by the way in British these are nappies). Which is why informing someone that “I need new pants” does not mean “I should purchase some new trousers”; it means “I have soiled myself”. (For extra credit, walk into a Gap and ask for khaki pants: you are now offering money for shitty underwear). I cannot overstate this, fellow expats: stay away from pants.

Similarly, lose the word “robe”. What are you, the Klan? Use instead: dressing gown. Yes the word feels weird in your mouth and overly fancy like you’re Vincent Price leering out of a black-and-white Halloween special from the 1950s. But trust me: in this country, the thing you put on after a shower is a dressing gown.

Speaking of fancy, if someone invites you to a fancy dress party, you’re not going black tie – fancy dress means a Halloween costume (turns out British people don’t need seasonal excuses to dress up and get drunk, they do it year round). 

Clothes are just a nightmare generally. You’re probably aware that sweaters are called jumpers, but did you know that a vest is an undershirt? Yes: the thing you’re calling a “vest” is a sleeveless jumper. Americans may wear them over button-down shirts, but don’t say button-down shirt. In England, a button-down shirt is a very specific kind of dress shirt with tiny buttons to hold down the triangular collar. What you’re calling a button-down is, in this country, simply a shirt.  

But getting back to jumpers: what if you, an American, desire to procure an American-style *jumper* and not be steered to the sweaters? It’s a pinafore you’re after.

Footwear: you probably knew that Brits eschew sneakers for trainers, but equally important is never to pair those trainers with “sweatpants”. You’ll be calling them trackies (from the original Latin “Tracksuit Trousers“). Adding to the confusion, somehow the word “sweatshirt” is fine. Similarly, if you ask for pumps, you’ll be shown to the flat shoes. If you want heels, specifically short, comfortable ones for work, you may need to go full Downton Abbey and practice the phrase “court shoes”.

Refrain from stating that you like to wear suspenders to hold up your pants. First, you are wearing trousers. More importantly, though, suspenders are the little straps that hang from garter belts to hold up sexy thigh-highs. The things that go over your shoulders to keep your trousers in place in the absence of a belt are called braces. These are for your trousers not for your teeth. Actually, they’re also for your teeth – somehow British people are not confused by the homonym. (It’s probably the greater intelligence conferred by the accent). Anyway, steer well clear of suspenders holding up pants. Aside from being naughty, it defies the known laws of physics.

Speaking of thigh-highs – ladies, when dressing for a professional commitment, you are not wearing stockings (unless you are in which case [fist bump emoji]). If you’re not sporting thigh-highs, the things covering your legs and feet are tights. Any mention of stockings will send prurient minds in the direction of your suspenders.

Well, this seems as good a time as any to transition to a section I’ll call

NSFW

Please immediately never again complain that someone “blew you off”. (Say instead: they stood you up.) Certainly don’t do it loudly in front of all your colleagues. At a meeting. Hypothetically. There are regional differences in the way this phrase is construed; some colleagues will faint outright when informed (hypothetically) that a famous scientist “totally blew me off at a conference”. Others will simply grimace and twitch at the non-standard but vaguely filthy phrase, and go off in search of a cup of tea. Either way, potentially career-limiting.

Similarly, when announcing your intent to drink heavily later that evening, refrain from shouting that you’re “double-fisting tonight!” (Again – hypothetically.) You think you’re innocently anticipating a drink in each hand. A British person is picturing something unspeakable. 

While we’re on drinks, under no cirumstances are you to order a growler. This won’t be a problem for most Americans, as the word is fading from common usage, at least as a description of a tankard of beer. Do practice common sense before inviting a British person to tour military submarines.

It’s fun to laugh at these examples of our division by a common language. But there’s something unsettling about the fundamental limits of all language – even basic words that purport to be universally understood – in projecting the same agreed-upon meanings and images into all our different brains. We are all, ultimately, alone inside our skulls. Words are the only tools we have to reach across the vast chasm that divides us. When they fail, we have no recourse. That point was driven home in the conversation that ensued when I alighted upon the word “geezer”.

For Americans, it means a creaky old person. But I suddenly recalled that I had heard it used in perplexing contexts by Brits. Delighted to have possibly found another bad homonym to add to my collection, I asked my British other half what it meant to him. 

Him: “Yeah, that’s not at all what it means here. A geezer is like a – well, you know, kind of a wide boy.”

Blank from me. “So like plus sized…?”

“No, no – like, a wide boy – you know. A wide boy” – [didn’t know despite the repetition] – “like a … spiv.”

A gardening tool?

Exasperated now: “Jack the lad!”

I emitted a howl of existential terror. “What are you even saying to me?”

Momentarily struck dumb at the top of our own miniature tower of babel, we turned to Wiktionary. “Someone affable but morally dubious,” Wiktionary offered. Evoking a frat boy type mentality, but older. “More likely than non-geezers to be white, and sexist, and bond over shared sexism.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, finally getting the picture. “You’re talking about a bro!”

“No,” he said dubiously, “because geezers don’t tend to know much about tech.”

“No no no, that’s a tech bro. That’s its own subspecies.”

“Oh. So wait, then what’s a bro?”

“You know. A bro. Like a… kind of a…”

---

Image credits:

“What Americans hear”, The Economist, copied and pasted ad infinitum

“Growler restrictions”: Nicholas Glynn