The other day I struggled to understand a little newspaper article that was all about quangos. Yes, quangos. I read the item carefully, looking for a definition but never found one. Was this some strange sort of fruit, perhaps a cross between a kumquat and a mango? But if so, then why would the British government be promising the end to so many fruit hybrids? There was nobody around to ask, but then I remembered my copy of "Knickers in a Twist: A Dictionary of British Slang," given me by a kind English expat back in Chicago who foresaw this kind of confusion.
I quickly discovered that a quango (or QUANGO) is a quasi-autonomous non-governmental organization. Kinda like our NGOs, I guess. According to Jonathan Bernstein, author of "Knickers in a Twist," quangos, "generally have titles that suggest they have something to do with housing or transport or health but, in fact, their main function is to perpetuate bureaucracy. The cynical may suggest that these committees and agencies exist solely to reward close but otherwise unemployable associates of the political party in power."
I've also noticed, not without some alarm, that many British-English expressions have been creeping into my everyday vocabulary. I wonder if I should hold on to my American uniqueness, even as my accent and diction also begin to change, with my intonation sliding upwards at unexpected moments and my speech, always fast, now taking on a rather clipped, carefully pronunciated quality (according to friends back home).
But hang it all, some of the phrase I've begun to use are darned useful, so I'm not giving them up. Here are a few:
"faffing about": messing around, wasting time. As in, "I was meant to write two articles today, but I couldn't help faffing about on Facebook." Not that that's a personal example or anything.
"keen": eager. As in, "I'm very keen to learn about quangos."
"fancy": want, desire. As in, "Oooh, I'd really fancy a piece of chocolate right now." Also often used in a romantic sense to mean having a crush on someone, or desiring someone, making conversations about crushes so much simpler. Instead of, "What do you mean she likes him? Do you mean she likes likes him, or that she just likes him as a friend?", I can now say, "Are you telling me that she fancies him? Ooooh, that's brill!"
"brill": short for brilliant. Also "fab" for fabulous, and so forth.
Just don't let me turn into another Madonna, or anyone else with an affected British accent. In my experience, Americans who've been here while start to sound more Irish than anything else. Although I was frankly bewildered when a man I met the other day (who is from South Africa, but moved here 15 years ago) tried to place my accent.
"Don't be offended, but are you from the north?" he asked.
"North?" I asked, eyebrows raised. After all, he is the only person, out of about 500 so far, who hasn't immediately identified me as American.
"Yes, like Newcastle?"
"No," I said, laughing. "Try west."
His eyebrows furrowed.
"West? How about Liverpool?"
"No," I said, "much, much, much further west."
He smiled.
"I've got it now! Ireland."
I sighed.
"Go further west. Across an ocean."
"Oh," he said in surprise. "You're American."
At least he didn't say Canadian.
Hiya, stumbled on your blog by accident. Welcome to Blighty!
Quango: Nothing like an NGO. NGOs normally do something useful...
If you want to find out more about us this side of the pond, I can recommend http://community.livejournal.com/brits_americans for the anglophiles/americophiles among us.