It’s a fast news week here at the Mercury. You wouldn’t believe how fast, really. In fact, it’s lightning fast. But I’ve taken the last few nanoseconds between breaking stories to contemplate: What do people really want to know? What do they really want to hear about? What constitutes genuine information in an age where we’re too often swamped by noise?

And then, it hit me. Or rather, Steve hit me with it. “It seems people are fascinated by your mode of talking,” he said. And, sadly, they are. It’s beginning to dawn on me that no matter how long I’m in Portland, or how hard I try to say “process” and “tomato” like the rest of you, I’m always going to be an outsider when it comes to the way I talk.

Unless, that is, I get the rest of you to understand the subtleties of my language, and perhaps, adopt some of them for yourselves. First up? A beginner’s education in how to employ the expression “Cor Blimey, Guv’nor.”

“Cor Blimey” is a late Victorian euphemism, or “minced oath,” for the words “God Blind Me.” It originated in working class English in the 1890s as a way to express surprise to people of higher class in the street without blaspheming and betraying one’s own lower class status.

“Guv’nor” is an abbreviation of “governor,” referring to someone in charge, and is rooted, as mentioned, in the speaker’s class. A working class person, say, a taxi driver, might call his clients “guv’nor” rather than “mate,” as it denotes not only that the passenger is of higher perceived class than the taxi driver, but also that the taxi driver is himself of the working classes—a middle class person would never call an upper class person “guv’nor,” but employ the words “sir,” or “madam,” or perhaps pretend to be upper class themselves (a mortal sin which in the eyes of many English should be punishable by death.)

“Mate” is reserved for persons of the working class to address one another. It is more pally. For example, two furniture removal men might call one another “mate” in a greasy spoon cafeteria during their leisure hours, perhaps while reading the tabloid newspapers and casually discussing the soccer scores (which they would refer to, of course, as “football.”)

It is never right to massacre the expression by saying “Cor Blimey, Mate.” In a mate-to-mate exchange, coarseness and vulgarity are the norm. For example, “F—k me running, mate. That’s a shocking situation,” would be more appropriate.

Lately, another layer of complexity has been added to the whole “Cor Blimey, Guv’nor” debate: Young, middle and upper-class “mockneys” have usurped the phrase, and begun employing it ironically in an effort to confuse the class system. There is no reason, then, why Portlanders should not also begin saying it whether or not the circumstances are indeed strictly appropriate. But now, at least, you know what the strictly-defined appropriate circumstances are.

Email me your British questions at askabrit@portlandmercury.com, or if you prefer, I can simply make them up. There’s no escape.