To many foreign visitors, the 'And one for yourself?' ritual seems like an unnecessarily circuitous and complicated way of giving a tip - a gesture accomplished almost everywhere else in the world by the simple handing over of a few coins. A bemused American, to whom I explained the rule, expressed incredulity at the 'Byzantine' nature of English pub etiquette, and a French visitor bluntly dismissed the entire procedure as 'typical English hypocrisy'.
Although other foreigners told me that they found our convoluted courtesies charming, if somewhat bizarre, I have to admit that these two critics both have a point. English rules of politeness are undeniably rather complex, and, in their tortuous attempts to deny or disguise the realities of status differences, clearly hypocritical. But then, surely all politeness is a form of hypocrisy: almost by definition, it involves pretence. The sociolinguists Brown and Levinson argue that politeness 'presupposes [the] potential for aggression as it seeks to disarm it, and makes possible communication between potentially aggressive parties'. Also in the context of a discussion of aggression, Jeremy Paxman observes that our strict codes of manners and etiquette seem 'to have been developed by the English to protect themselves from themselves'.
We are, perhaps more than many other cultures, intensely conscious of class and status differences. George Orwell correctly described England as 'the most class-ridden country under the sun'. Our labyrinthine rules and codes of polite egalitarianism are a disguise, an elaborate charade, a severe collective case of what psychotherapists would call 'denial'. Our polite egalitarianism is not an expression of our true social relations, any more than a polite smile is a manifestation of genuine pleasure or a polite nod a signal of real agreement. Our endless pleases disguise orders and instructions as requests; our constant thank-yous maintain an illusion of friendly equality; the 'And one for yourself?' ritual requires an extraordinary act of communal self-deception, whereby we all agree to pretend that nothing so vulgar as money nor so degrading as 'service' is involved in the purchase of drinks in a bar.
Hypocrisy? At one level, clearly, yes: our politenesses are all sham, pretence, dissimulation - an artificial veneer of harmony and parity masking quite different social realities. But I have always understood the term hypocrisy to imply conscious, deliberate deception of others, whereas English polite egalitarianism seems to involve a collective, even collaborative, self-delusion. Our politenesses are evidently not a reflection of sincere, heartfelt beliefs, but neither are they cynical, calculating attempts to deceive. And perhaps we need our polite egalitarianism to protect us from ourselves - to prevent our acute consciousness of class differences from expressing itself in less acceptable ways.
The Rules of Regular-speak
I mentioned above, in the context of the pantomime rule, that there is a special code of etiquette governing the behaviour and speech of pub 'regulars' (regular customers of a particular pub), which, among other privileges, allows them to break the pantomime rule. The special code does not, however, allow them to jump the invisible queue - as this would violate the over-riding English rule about queuing, itself a subsidiary, it would seem, of a more general rule of Englishness about 'fairness'. It is worth examining the rules of regular-speak in more detail, as they represent a 'conventionalized deviation from convention', which should provide further clues that will help us in our search for the defining characteristics of Englishness.
Greeting Rules
When a regular enters the pub, there will often be a chorus of friendly greetings from the other regulars, the publican and the bar staff. Publicans and bar staff always address regulars by name, and regulars always address the publican, bar staff and each other by name. Indeed, I have noticed that in the pub, names are used rather more often than is strictly necessary, as though to emphasize the familiarity and personal connections between members of this small 'tribe'. This is particularly striking as a contrast to 'mainstream' English conversation codes, in which names are used significantly less than in other cultures, and where over-use of names is frowned upon as cloyingly American.
The bonding effect among pub regulars is further reinforced by the use of nicknames - pubs are always full of people called 'Shorty', 'Yorkshire', 'Doc', 'Lofty', etc. To call someone by a nickname universally indicates a high degree of familiarity. Normally, only family and close friends use nicknames. The frequent use of nicknames between regulars, publican and bar staff gives them a sense of belonging - and gives us a helpful insight into the nature of social relations in English pubs23. It is worth noting in this context that some regular pubgoers have a 'pub-nickname' which is not used by their friends and family outside the pub, and may not even be known to these groups. Pub-nicknames are often ironic: a very short regular may be known as Lofty, for example. In my own local pub, although I was normally known as 'Stick' (a reference to my rather scrawny figure), the landlord went through a phase of calling me 'Pillsbury'.
The greeting rules require the publican, bar staff and regulars to welcome a regular with a chorus of 'Evening, Bill', 'Wotcha, Bill', 'Alright, Bill?', 'Usual, is it, Bill?', and so on. The regular must respond to each greeting, normally addressing the greeter by name or nickname: 'Evening, Doc', 'Wotcha, Joe', 'Alright there, Lofty', 'Usual, thanks, Mandy'. The rules do not prescribe the exact words to be used in these exchanges, and one often hears inventive, idiosyncratic, humorous or even mock-insulting variations, such as 'Ah, just in time to buy your round, Bill!' or 'Back again, Doc? Haven't you got a home to go to?'
The Rules of Coded Pub-talk
If you spend hundreds of hours sitting eavesdropping in pubs, you will notice that many pub conversations could be described as 'choreographed', in the sense that they follow a prescribed pattern, and are conducted in accordance with strict rules - although participants are not conscious of this, and obey the rules instinctively. While the rules of this choreographed pub-talk may not be immediately obvious to outsiders, the conversations can be followed and understood. One type of regular-speak, however, is utterly incomprehensible to outsiders, and can be understood only by the regular customers of a particular pub. This is because the regulars are effectively speaking in code, using a private language. Here is my favourite typical example of coded pub-talk, from the etiquette research:
The scene is a busy Sunday lunchtime in a local pub. A few REGULARS are standing at the bar, where the PUBLICAN is serving. A male REGULAR enters, and by the time he reaches the bar, the PUBLICAN has already started pouring his usual pint. The PUBLICAN places the pint on the counter in front of the REGULAR, who fishes in his pocket for money.
REGULAR 1: 'Where's meat and two veg, then?'
PUBLICAN: 'Dunno, mate - should be here by now.'
REGULAR 2: 'Must be doing a Harry!'
( - All laugh - )
REGULAR 1: 'Put one in the wood for him, then - and yourself?'
PUBLICAN: 'I'll have one for Ron, thanks.'
To decode this conversation, you would need to know that the initial question about 'meat and two veg' was not a request for a meal, but an enquiry as to the whereabouts of another regular, nicknamed 'Meat-and-two-veg' because of his rather stolid, conservative nature (meat with two vegetables being the most traditional, unadventurous English meal). Such witty nicknames are common: in another pub, there is a regular known as TLA, which stands for Three Letter Acronym, because of his penchant for business-school jargon.
One would also have to know that 'doing a Harry', in this pub, is code for 'getting lost', Harry being another regular, a somewhat absent-minded man, who once, three years ago, managed to get lost on his way to the pub, and is still teased about the incident. 'Put one in the wood for him' is a local version of a more common pub-talk expression, meaning 'reserve a pint of beer to give him when he arrives, which I will pay for now' (The more usual phrase is 'Put one in for...' or 'Leave one in for...' - 'Put one in the wood for...' is a regional variation, found mainly in parts of Kent.) The phrase 'and yourself?' is shorthand for 'and one for yourself?', the approved formula for offering a drink. The 'Ron' referred to by the publican, however, is not a person, but a contraction of 'later on'.