SLANG AND CANT
IN
JEROME K. JEROME’S WORKS

A STUDY

BY
OLOF E. BOSSON

CAMBRIDGE
W. HEFFER & SONS, LTD.
1911

LUND 1911
PRINTED BY HÅKAN OHLSSON

Contents.

Preface.

The object of this essay is to examine vulgarism and slang in the works of Jerome K. Jerome (b. 1859).

Jerome gives us very good specimens of the ordinary language of the Victorian era. His style is not surprisingly original, but he shows a remarkable talent in rendering with perfect accuracy the characteristic talk of different classes of society. The persons he introduces to us need only utter a few words, before we are able to form a conception of their social position, their degree of culture, etc.; very often we get in this manner a clue also to their character. The author has led an exceptionally varied life—in his early years he was at different times a clerk, a teacher, an actor, a journalist. He had, accordingly, frequent opportunities of communicating with individuals of different social position and different culture, and of studying their language. He does not aim at grammatical peculiarities, elaborate phrases, or rare expressions; his language is the average language of his own time, acutely observed and faithfully rendered. Giving us thus a true and varied image of the talk of different classes and trades, his writings are specially suited to form the material for a study of slang and cant.

Concerning a subject so changeable as cant and slang, it is evidently of importance to know the acceptation of every expression at every period of the development of the language. As a matter of course, therefore, I have tried to discover, in the language of our author, the exact shade of sense of the different slang and cant-expressions, especially in cases where it does not coincide with the common usage, or where it concerns rare expressions.

In order to contribute to the knowledge of the prevalence of the cant and slang-expressions, I have tried to indicate the social position, the sex, the degree of culture, etc., of the persons speaking; and, as far as possible, I have ascertained the history and etymology of my expressions, though, in this respect, my efforts have often been without success.

A rather difficult point has been the classification of the expressions. The question whether a term may be regarded as vulgar or slang, or merely colloquial, is, in many cases, very debateable, as the opinions even of qualified judges concerning this matter are often divergent. In such cases, I have endeavoured to find a medium, founding my statements on the authority of cultivated Englishmen.

A number of original cant and slang-expressions have, to a certain degree, penetrated into the colloquial speech of the cultivated, holding thus an intermediate position between cant or slang on one side, and colloquial language on the other: these terms have been treated as special groups vulgar > colloquial and slang > colloquial.

I take the opportunity to express my sincere thanks to the University-Lecturer, Mr. Charles Scott Fearenside, whose valuable assistance has been of great use to me throughout the course of my researches.

I also beg to express my gratitude to Mr. Sidney Charleston, University-Lecturer in Upsala, and to Mrs. Gertrude Fahlström, née Pickering.

Lund, October 6th, 1910.

Olof Bosson.

Bibliography.

In the following list of Jerome’s books, T. E. means «Tauchnitz Edition», E. L. «The English Library».

Plays

Introduction.

During the last years, a conspicuous interest—not only on the part of philologists—has been devoted to that strange outgrowth of language which prospers and develops, unrestricted by all literary traditions, in the easy, natural talk of uncultivated people and of certain groups and trades. This special language is, indeed, of real interest, and its study is of importance, not only as a matter of curiosity.

The philologist has here ample scope for observations of different kinds.

In the language of the uneducated ‘vulgus’, he will often meet with the first traces of an evolution which the literary and cultivated language will have to pass through in the future; on the other hand, he will recognize old forms and obsolete constructions which have passed out of use in the language of the cultivated. Concerning the development of the sense of words, as well as phonetic development, he will be able to make observations of great interest.

In this special language literature has at its disposal an ever-flowing source of renewal.

It is supplied with an abundance of picturesque, amusing, and characteristic words, of surprising and original expressions, of terms constituting a spontaneous and striking manifestation of the speaker’s thought at a certain moment. Every individual being allowed to speak his own natural language, character-drawing gains in veracity, literary description in freshness and variety.

In one of Jerome’s books (Paul Kelver, Vol. II. p. 208. l. 14), we come across the following little dialogue:

»The wonderful songs that nobody ever sings, the wonderful pictures that nobody ever paints, and all the rest of it. It’s Tommy rot!»

»I wish you wouldn’t use slang.»

»Well, you know what I mean. What is the proper word? Give it me.»

»I suppose you mean ‘cant’», I suggested. »No, I don’t. Cant is something that you don’t believe in yourself. It’s ‘Tommy rot’; there isn’t any other word.»

The young lady who makes the above remark is quite right. There are many words in the English language that say about the same, but there is not a single word in the ‘normal’, literary language, that tells us exactly what she wants to get said; not another word forming a concise expression of her thought, and giving us at the same time a clue to her character.

Quite naturally, modern literature has made ample use of this »vulgar» language, and, at the same time, the philologists have striven to investigate its resources. Thus, France possesses about half a dozen Dictionnaires d’Argot, and the English-speaking world has at its disposal about the same number of modern Slang and Cant Dictionaries. Linguistic studies and essays treating this subject are as yet rather few, but no doubt they will appear in greater number in the future.

No other literature has been influenced by this language to such an extent as the English. In Great Britain, there have been no Academy, no »salons littéraires», fettering and regulating the literary language. Being allowed to develop itself in perfect liberty, it has gathered its method of expression from different ranges of language and society. Ever since the days of Shakespeare, English authors have made ample use of the easy every-day language of the lower classes; and, from the beginning of the 15th century, a rich, independent literature of slang and vulgar tongue has been developing[1]. Modern English realists have attained a real virtuosity in rendering with almost photographic, or rather phonographic, accuracy the talk of different classes and individuals. It may be truly said that it is impossible to acquire a thorough knowledge of English without being familiar with slang and vulgarism. Whoever is uninitiated into this special language will be at a loss to understand many of the masterpieces of English literature. Nay, without any knowledge of it, he will scarcely be able even to understand an English paper.

»If you will allow me the use of slang» is a phrase often heard in English conversation; but in reality a considerable number of original slang and cant expressions are used without any special permission—often without the speaker’s knowing it. There is—as in all languages, and in English much more than in any other—a constant flow from »low class» into »high class» language. A word or an expression, having been long in use exclusively among the working classes, or in the easy talk of certain trades, gradually penetrates into the colloquial speech of the cultivated—sometimes with a slight change of the sense—and suddenly appears one day in refined literary language. In actual English, there are many such expressions, originating partly from cant, partly from slang[2].

Now, what is slang, and what is cant?

When the average Englishman employs the word »slang», he usually means all that he does not regard as »correct» English, all that sounds to his ears more or less vulgar. In reality, a certain confusion seems to have been long prevailing in English conception and English literature concerning »flash» and »cant» (vulgarism) on one side, and »slang» on the other[3].

By slang, I mean the easy, natural, semi-technical language of special classes of society.

In English, as well as in most other languages, there are a great many terms and expressions which are chiefly used in certain trades and professions, and which are often unintelligible to outsiders. Such terms, for instance, are pater, mater (father, mother), to be plucked or ploughed (to be rejected in an examination), tuck (sweetstuff), swot (study hard), slack (the contrary of the last-named), coach (private tutor), etc., all in common use among schoolboys. Many of them, such as chum, chummy, cheek, jaw (chatter), spoon (make love), bunk (run away, escape), etc., have exceeded their original sphere and encroached upon common, colloquial language. Among the most important categories of slang, the following may be mentioned: student-, schoolboy-, military-, commercial- and sporting-slang. The political world, Parliament, the printing-offices, the stage, nay, even the Church, give their tributes to the vocabulary of slang. The slang-terms are mostly common to all individuals of the same class, but occasionally they differ. Thus, two universities, or even two neighbouring schools, sometimes use different semi-technical terms to express the same idea.

By cant or vulgarism (low-slang) I mean the easy, natural language of the uneducated people.

Originally, cant signified the secret language, used by the vagrant classes, the »Canting Crew»—gipsies, thieves, beggars, highwaymen, etc. But, in the course of time, the word has become a general, half-contemptuous name for the special phraseology and vocabulary of the lower classes. Cant is the native tongue of Seven Dials and Whitechapel, of Wapping and St. Giles, of Clare Market and East India Docks, generally speaking, of the suburbs and slums of English towns—of all places where »the Rough», the uncultivated individual of the lower classes, has his whereabouts. The labourer generally intermingles his talk more or less with cant. It is the jargon of the Street Arabs (the London street-boys), the Costers, the Bookmakers, the Hooligans (the »Apaches» of London), the Cheap Jacks, the Newspaper Boys, the Shoeblack Brigade, etc., etc. The colloquial language of the cultivated is mixed up with cant-expressions, the amount depending on the individual’s social position, his sex, his age, etc. Even literary language now and then borrows a term or a phrase from cant. Words such as cad, pal, rum, row, cove, etc., are nowadays understood in refined society, and are generally used in colloquial language.

The centre and starting-point of cant has always been London—»Rom Vile», the marvellous city—and the vagrant people, assembled thither from all parts of the Empire and of the world, have joined in creating its vocabulary.

Its cosmopolitan character makes it a very difficult task to search into its etymological sources, all the more so, as the words and phrases have regularly become more or less altered on their being transplanted into English soil. The cleverest etymologists are here often non-plussed, and, in most cases, we must content ourselves with conjectures. Quite naturally, the main part of its vocabulary consists of Anglo-Saxon words, usually badly maimed. The mysterious Gipsy language, Romany, as yet but imperfectly investigated, has furnished a considerable number of old cant-terms. Such words are, for instance, pal, row, cove, rum or rom, shindy, all original cant-terms, but now partly colloquial[4]. In French originate, e. g., the old cant-word vile (town), cropoh (= crapaud, nick-name for a Frenchman), savey (to know), bean (a generic term for money; bien), quandary (qu’en dirai-je? embarrassment), dace or duce (deux: a twopenny-piece); in German: frow (Frau), kinchen (Kindchen), nix (nichts), gilt (old cant for money), finuf (a five-pound-note: fünf); in Italian: case (house); nantee (niente: nothing), letty (letto: bedstead), bene (as in bene darkmans: good night!); in Dutch: booze (buysen: to drink), bloke (blok?: man); in Latin: max (maximum?: gin), panum or panam (old cant for bread), nincom or ninny (non compos mentis: simpleton), quid (sovereign); in Hebrew: shickster (girl; Hebr. chackets?), schofel (name for a hansom-cab), etc.[5].

Especially during the last decades, America has strongly influenced the development of the English language. Americanisms are to be found in great number both in colloquial English, and also in slang and cant.

The grammar, as well as the phonology, of cant differs in many respects from that of the literary language.

Analogy plays an important rôle, and the anomalisms and divergencies are often of the same nature as those found in the language of children. The inflection is, accordingly, very much simplified, but, on the other hand, vulgar language has preserved several old forms which do not exist in the speech of the cultivated.

The best way to study Cant and Slang is, of course, to listen to the speaking individual himself. But, for several reasons, this must, as a rule, be left to natural-born Englishmen. Another way is to study literature, especially the English and American humorists.

Whoever has tried to make himself at home in this special branch of English literature has undoubtedly had some reason to complain of the insufficiency of the philological aids within his reach. He will often search in vain for the information he wants in the most detailed grammars; the dictionaries of slang and cant may stand him in good stead, but they are all insufficient, and they do not always agree with one another; in particular, their classification is very inconsistent and often erroneous. On the whole, it may be truly stated that this important part of the English language is, as yet, but imperfectly investigated.

A GRAMMATICAL SURVEY

I. A Few Phonetic Notes.

As regards phonetics, Jerome’s language shows us the usual characteristic alterations and abbreviations of vulgar speech.

The uncultivated individual instantly and invariably unmasks himself by dropping his »h’s», however he may struggle to avoid it. On the other hand, an h not existing in ordinary pronunciation, is sometimes heard before a vowel, especially in pathetic speech.

Heven money on the Purple Hemperor! (Three Men On The Bummel, 74. 10.)

The lean girl said she had »erd on me». The fat girl remarked genteelly that she too had »heard hof me». with emphasis upon the »hof». (P. Kelver II. 68. 6.)

A man’s wife orter be to ’im a gawdess, a hangel, a — —. (Novel Notes 212. 31.)

Mar is quite hanxious to see you. (P. Kelver II. 64. 30.)

Thank you, I don’t heat cocoanuts that have been shied at by anybody. (P. Kelver II. 64. 16.)

Another characteristic of non-culture, often ridiculed in comic papers, is the pronunciation of u:

An r, consisting of a scarcely perceptible vibration of the tip of the tongue (named vanish-r by Ellis), is often heard in words and combinations where it does not exist in ordinary pronunciation. In some cases, it seems to be used to avoid a hiatus, in others, it is evidently the effect of an exaggerated palatal pronunciation of the vowel.

A long vowel is often abbreviated: weskit for ‘waistcoat’, gal, gel for ‘girl’, dunno for ‘don’t know’, agin for ‘again’, etc.; while, on the other hand, a short vowel (esp. o) is sometimes lengthened: dawg for ‘dog’, gawd for ‘god’ (Novel Notes 212).

(The same pron. of short o exists in the Essex dialect.)

In vulgar London speech, w is sometimes heard instead of v. Jerome’s language offers, however, but one sample: wiolets (T. T. T. 137. 5.)

(The pronunciation of w as v, Veller for Weller, etc. is said to be extinct in modern vulgar English.)

The g in words ending with -ing, esp. the present participle, is mostly mute in vulgar pronunciation.

This pronunciation of the participle is, however, rather an archaism. Sendin’. etc., is the ancient, dialectic pronunciation, and is not exclusively characteristic of vulgar language. Our author tells us that it has been—and is perhaps at present—the fashion among certain circles of the capital: «He suppressed a yawn, and replied, ‘Mornin’ dropping the g. The custom was just coming into fashion; he was always correct». (Sketches 51. 9.)

Blasé Billy.

Other anomalisms are: sich for such, hisself for himself, forarther for further (T. T. T. 247. 12), allus for always, mar for mother (P. Kelver II. 64. 30), oss for horse (Sketches 195. 20).

II. Accidence.

Anomalisms in the Conjugation of the Verbs.

The effect of analogy is obvious in the following examples.

Past.

(The common anomalous form I seed is not to be found in Jerome.)

Perfect Participle.

Present Participle.

The Present Participles preceded by a pleonastic -a are very numerous.

To Be.

It wur instead of it was is dialectic or vulgar. The samples I have found in Jerome (Three Men in a Boat 221, Woodb. Farm 8 + 10 + 56) are obviously all dialectic.

The uncommon form warn’t instead of wasn’t occurs in Woodb. Farm (p. 8, 1), but is evidently also dialectic.

Of the common anomalous form they’s instead of they are there is no example in Jerome.

To Have.

Have not and has not are regularly transformed into ain’t.

I ain’t got a bloomin’ sixpence on me. (Sketches 128. 12.)

’E ain’t never been his old self since then. (Sketches 201. 3.) Etc.

(Ain’t = am not, are not, is not, is colloquial.)

Pronouns.

The abbreviated form ’em (for them, Middle-Engl. hem) is very common in Jerome, as in ordinary easy conversation among all classes.

The ordinary confusion of I and me appears in a few instances.

Just as you or me would swear at the missus. (T. T. T. 128. 17.)

In another twenty minutes me and young M. were in the carriage. (T. T. T. 195. 7.)

Me instead of myself is archaic, but occurs in vulgar language also.

It is no use fixing me down to any quiet calling. (T. T. T. 172. 12.)

Uncultivated young man.

You is very often corrupted into yer or ye.

I do the tips, yer know. (T. T. T. 131. 20.)

Any man could look at ye and hate ye. (P. Kelver 32. 11.) Etc.

Them is sometimes confused with those:

She fetched ’im round to one of them revivalist chaps. (Sketches 201. 2.)

A waiter.

I wouldn’t ’ave ’em know as ’ow I was one o’ them college blokes. (Novel Notes 203. 90.)

Uncultivated young man.

With them little hands. (Woodb. Farm 19. 20.)

A farmer.

Enclitic here (always written ’ere: this ’ere, that ’ere, etc.) is very common. Of enclitic there I have found no example in Jerome.

The assimilation of m in himself (hisself) is regular.

Nouns.

The vulgar tongue has a strong liking for diminutive forms ending in -y, -ey. I have found in Jerome the following instances.

Cf. milky = milkman; dusty = dustman; bricky = bricklayer; posty = postman (Baumann).

Sometimes, the tendency to form words ending in -y seems to extend also to the Participle.

(Cf. dreaming > dreamy; chatting > chatty, etc.)

An instance of double-possessive appears in Sketches p. 201. 8.

They told him as ’ow it was folks’s own fault that they were poor.

(Cf. Swed. »hanses rock», etc.)

III. Syntactical Remarks.

Constructions with To be and the Present Participle are used colloquially, with the intention of vividness, in many cases where there is no particular reason to stress the fact that a thought is just a going on, a tendency especially characteristic of the Celtic-speaking Englishman. The uneducated vulgus have a strong predilection for these constructions and overdo them, as in the following examples, where there is not any reason at all for using them:

I’d ’ave ’ad to wait a long time, I’m thinking, if I ’adn’t come across this one ’ere. (T. T. T. 148. 18.)

Uncultivated Londoner.

You don’t see many fish that size about here now, I’m thinking. (Three Men In A Boat 221. 24.)

A farmer.

I am hoping it will be some sensible, pleasant woman. (Tommy And Co. 164. 12.)

A London gentleman with a strong liking for vulgarism.

Adjectives, adverbs, and other words are often accompanied by a pleonastic -like.

(Such-like is quite normal. In fact, when the word is not attributive, »such» would now be colloquial, e.g. »thieves and such» for »such-like», »the like».)

Adverbs are often substituted for adjectives.

It was awful gloomy before. (Three Men In A Boat 63. 30.)

Not a particular nice class as you meet there. (Tommy And Co. 17. 1.)

Uncultivated Londoner.

She’d come in regular with her young man. (T. T. T. 130. 3.)

A waiter.

I snapped him up shortish. (T. T. T. 196. 2.)

The same.

I’m fair sick of ’er. (Novel Notes 212. 12.)

Uncultivated young man.

He fair settled ’im. (Sketches 201. 2.)

Uncultivated old woman.

They met accidental-like. (T. T. T. 144. 4.)

A waiter.

This tendency extends, however, to the colloquial language of the cultivated. »Precious», for instance, is almost regularly substituted for very by many persons of some education.

(The inverse construction—adverb instead of adjective—may be heard now and then: the child looked very nicely, etc.)

Adjectives turned into a Plural Noun to express a State of Mind.

I used to get the fair dismals watching it. (T. T. T. 129. 21.)

A Waiter.

It gave me the blues for a day or two—that bit of news. (T. T. T. 146. 20.)

The same.

As stands very often for Relative Pronouns without a preceding such.

It’s the world as I’m complaining of. (T. T. T. 157. 12.)

The sort as likes it and the sort as don’t. (T. T. T. 205. 5.)

’E don’t cotton much to them as ain’t found grace. (Sketches 199. 28.) Etc. Etc.

Nearly as often, as or as how is substituted for subordinate that.

I don’t think as I can. (T. T. T. 127. 2.)

They shan’t say as I have disgraced them. (T. T. T. 145. 8.)

They told him as ’ow it was folks’s own fault that they was poor. (Sketches 201. 8.)

The papers always said as how she was charming. (T. T. T. 137. 14.)

It was evidently his turn to think as how I was mad. (T. T. T. 188. 25.)

Constructions with so ... that are contracted in the following manner.

She was that clean you might have eaten your dinner out of her hand. (T. T. T. 133. 16.)

A waiter.

I wur that taken aback I couldn’t tell ’ee what it wur. (Woodb. Farm 56. 35.)

A farmer.

Double Negative Particle is rather common—as in German and other languages also.

She don’t get no better. (Sketches 194. 10.)

’E ain’t never been his old self since then. (Sketches 201. 3.)

I ain’t no bloomin’ Smythe. (Novel Notes 203. 7.) Etc.

The ordinary confusion of on and of occurs in one instance, admirably illustrating the difficulties the uneducated meet with as often as they try to disguise the fatal dropping of the h’s:

The lean girl said she had »erd on me». The fat girl, seizing the chance afforded her, remarked genteelly that she too had »heard hof me», with emphasis upon the »hof». (P. Kelver 68. 6.)

The following sequence of words—with stress upon the pronoun—is in high favour with the uncultivated Englishman (Cf. Swed. sa han, sa jag. etc.):

»What’s the good of Africa?» replies he. (T. T. T. 159. 18.)

»Australia!» retorts he; »what would I do there?» (T. T. T. 159. 10.)

»A man like that deserves what he gets,» answers he. (T. T. T. 169. 9.)

»She was a bit of a fool herself,» adds she. (T. T. T. 258. 7.)

»There’s no wages attached», continues she. (T. T. T. 228. 14.)

»Go for a soldier», says I. (T. T. T. 160. 12.)

SLANG

Avast!

»Avast!» (Stage-Land 82. 8.)

A sailor.

Sailor slang = Hold! Stop!

The term is much used by landlubbers who desire to get local colour cheap.

Little-go

»Perhaps you’d get through your Little-go in the course of the next few years.» (They And I. 7. 21.)

Conversation between a young lady and her brother, who is a student.

At Cambridge, Little-go is the common name for the public examination which candidates for an »ordinary degree» have to pass in the second year of residence.

Cf. Great-go: the final examination for the B. A.

nurse

»I had been ‘nursing’ her, as we say in the political world, for years.» (The Prude’s Progress 67. 20.)

A young author.

Political slang: used of a candidate for Parliament who seeks to ingratiate himself with the electors by paying them attentions and giving them things they like with a view to securing their votes when the election takes place. Here used of trying to prepare a young lady’s mind to accept a proposal of marriage when the moment comes to make it.

pater, mater

»I say to myself I’ll do a thing, but the mater talks and talks, and——.» (Sketches 41. 12.)

A young gentleman.

»I promised the Mater I would, and I did.» (Sketches 80. 30.)

The same.

»The Mater gave me half-a-crown a week for pocket-money.» (Sketches 81. 9.)

The same.

»The pater came to the conclusion that it was time he laid down a dog.» (Novel Notes 48. 18.)

The same.

The commonest familiar names for the parents on the lips of the average public schoolboy.

plough

«You have been ploughed then?» (Prude’s Progress).

Schoolboy slang for to be rejected in an examination.

Cf. the synonymous to be plucked and to be spun.

ratty

»Against one such Might make him ratty.» (They And I. 258. 1.)

A schoolgirl.

The expression is, I think, schoolboy slang for waxy, annoyed.

(Cf. Swed. «gnafven».)

shoot

»They’re all of ’em in the parlour, the whole blooming shoot.» (P. Kelver II. 66. 2.)

Uneducated young man.

Carters’ slang for mob, medley, rabble, miscellaneous horde. The exact meaning is probably: the whole mass of them as «shot» in one indiscriminate «shoot» from a tipping-cart or waggon into a place marked «Rubbish may be shot here» (afstjälpningsplats).

(Cf. Swed.: «hela skoffan».)

slack, swot

»To ‘slack’ in this term, with the full determination of ‘swotting’ in the next.» (Tommy And Co. 94. 14.)

The author.

To sweat or swot is schoolboy slang for drudge, study hard. To slack means the contrary.

The term «swot» originated at the Royal Military College, Sandhurst, in the broad Scotch pronunciation of Dr. Wallace, one of the Professors, of the word sweat.

Cf. »He used to despise a swot, as we used to call a lad with a taste for literature». (Percy White: Mr. Bailey-Martin. I.) »That’s the worst of clever little swots» (Rudyard Kipling, Stalky & Co.)

spin

»You have been ploughed then?»

»Oh, come, you mustn’t despair. You’ve only been »spun», as you fellows call it, for a few months.» (The Prude’s Progr. 52. 15. 35.)

To be spun: to be rejected in an examination = to be plucked and to be ploughed.

Baumann and Farmer-Henley call it military slang (Royal Military Academy), but here it occurs during a conversation between two medical students and their civil friends.

swag

»His ‘swag’ generally consists of an overcoat and a pair of boots.» (Novel Notes 176. 15.)

The author.

»A policeman found them afterwards, sitting on a doorstep, the ‘swag’ behind them in a carpet bag.» (Sketches 147. 22.)

A gentleman.

Thieves’ slang for booty, stolen things; not used outside thieves’ language—except, of course, as a conscious quotation.

SLANG > COLLOQUIAL ENGLISH

baccy

»Man works, as he thinks, for beer and baccy.» (T. T. T. 59. 20.)

A »minor poet.» Conversation between ladies and gentlemen.

»You had to walk ten miles to get your baccy.» (Three Men In A Boat 8. 8.)

»He sent them out to buy his baccy,» (Novel Notes 80. 16.)

A young gentleman.

Baccy is a vulgar form of tobacco, more vulgar than bacco. The formation of the word, with a gradual weakening of the last, unaccented syllable, is characteristic of vulgar language: baccoᵘ > baccŏ (or backer) > baccy.

bally

»I call the whole thing bally foolishness.» (Three Men In A Boat 14. 7.)

A comparatively recent coinage, it is said, of The Sporting Times from the Irish bally-hooly.

The word is used in the same manner as blooming and bloody, i. e. as a meaningless intensive expression. Bloody is an adj. used on every possible occasion by Eng. workmen, but without meaning. Schoolboys and grown-up persons of the better classes use bally.

chip in

»She took ‘the liberty of chipping in’, to use her own expression.» (They And I. 226. 6.)

An actress.

= of joining in the conversation.

To chip in is sport-slang (Cards) for »to put a chip (or counter) in the pool»; hence, by extension, to make a contribution to, or take part in, anything—e. g. a conversation or an enterprise.

coach

»The shy, backward boy I had coached and bullied.» (Sketches 83. 10.)

A cultivated man.

»For a fortnight past the O’Kelly had been coaching me.» (P. Kelver II. 80. 7.)

The same.

= to prepare for an examination.

Also: to train in physical acquirements, e. g. in (= tutor or traince in Standard English) cricket or rowing.

A coach: a person who trains another (but more disparaging); analogous terms are crammer, feeder, grinder.

The word is originally schoolboy and academical slang, but now in general use among all classes.

crib

»’Ow could ’e get a crib? no character, no references.» (P. Kelver II. 56. 12.)

A young clerk.