It is a well-documented fact that the English, when confronted with a foreigner who dares not to have mastered our mother tongue, resort to a time-honoured strategy: speak slowly, repeat frequently, raise the volume, and gesticulate wildly. This peculiar tradition, passed down through generations, is often dismissed as mere linguistic ignorance, but I propose that it has its roots in the grandest of historical cock-ups: the Norman Conquest.
Let’s consider 1066, the year the French-speaking Normans strolled in, knocked poor Harold off his perch, and installed themselves as rulers over a population who hadn’t the faintest idea what they were saying. The Anglo-Saxons spoke Old English, a good honest Germanic tongue full of words that sounded like someone choking on a lamb bone. The Normans, meanwhile, jabbered away in Anglo-Norman French, a language that made them sound terribly important but was about as comprehensible to the locals as a malfunctioning bagpipe.
And so began the great Anglo-Norman game of charades. The newly crowned lords, unwilling to learn the language of the peasants (as was proper for an aristocracy), had to find other means of issuing orders. They took to shouting their demands, repeating themselves in slightly different phrasings, and, when all else failed, pointing enthusiastically at things while hoping the message got through.
Imagine a Norman baron attempting to extract rent from an Anglo-Saxon farmer:
“RENTE! RENTE! … YOU PAY – YES? COINS – IN MY HAND. LOOK – HAND! MY HAND! GOLD! GIVE!”
Cue the terrified Saxon handing over whatever he had while pretending he understood a word of it. Over time, this method of communication embedded itself deep in the English psyche. Why learn the language when you can simply say the same thing louder and with more flailing?
Yes, there was a problem when the Saxons had to communicate with the earlier Vikings. They could communicate with effort, patience, and a few hand gestures, yes, but Saxon and Norse shared many common words, both being Germanic in origin. It was probably easier than a Norman trying to communicate with a Saxon - at least a Viking wouldn’t have had to resort to shouting!
Fast forward a few centuries, and the British Empire only reinforced this habit. As English officials fanned out across the globe, they continued the Norman tradition of shouting slowly at bemused locals. It was a system that worked well enough – at least, until the locals got tired of it and sent the British packing.
Even today, the legacy remains. Go to any Mediterranean resort and you’ll see the modern English holidaymaker, pint in hand, bellowing “FISH AND CHIPS?” at an overwhelmed waiter. The response is always the same: a blank stare followed by a desperate attempt to escape. But undeterred, the Englishman persists: “FISH. AND. CHIPS. DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND. ME?” – as if volume alone can bridge the linguistic chasm.
And so, we must accept that the great Anglo-Norman survival tactic lives on. A thousand years later, the English still communicate with foreigners exactly as their Norman overlords did with their Saxon subjects – loudly, insistently, and with an occasional mime routine. The Normans may have lost their grip on England, but their most enduring legacy remains:
The belief that if someone doesn’t understand you, the solution is to shout at them until they do.
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