After studying and living in Amsterdam, I recently learnt many wacky, wonderful things about British culture. One being our capacity to “Jibber Jabber.” What on earth is she blubbering about, you may well ask? This is, I’m guessing, your immediate reaction, as you gulp down your PG tips and tune out another BBC broadcast.
What I mean by “Jibber Jabber” is the ability of the British to talk utter nonsensical tripe at a rapid and often incoherent pace; a very different definition to the one supplied by (insert bunny-ear hand gestures) Urban Dictionary.
I refer to the stream of continuous natter that exists as a sort of background commentary to our daily lives in Old Bighty. We—yes, you—are part of a nation of gawkers and gabbers, oozing brain dribble and filled with hot air. Fluttering thoughts, egotistical advice and unfiltered judgements form a hubbub of relentless, yet strangely comforting noise. The sound of silence placed under siege, consumed by the clucks and croaks of constant conversation.
Perhaps, you’ll disagree. Yet, undeterred, I persistently proclaim that gabbing on is a particularly British phenomenon: nay, an epidemic (or sorts).
An amusing illustration of someone gabbing on (Side note: this is also my face when I check my bank account)
Indeed, my family have multiple, simultaneous (and largely pointless) discussions to avoid any possibility of noiseless company. Personal sanity is sacrificed for a permanent level of mumbling. My mother (a world-class mumbler) repeatedly neglects one sentence before starting another, knowing that neither necessarily needs to be spoken, or for that matter heard. Consequently, I can’t help but speak ill-advised gobbledegook to fend off any ominous pauses in social situations.
This “jibber jabber” often reminds me of the loveable dog, Doug, in Up, who follows around the grumpy Grandfather and fellow wilderness ranger Russell, expressing any momentary train-of-thought to the annoyance of his elderly companion.
Squirrels are a reoccurring topic within Doug’s highly entertaining conversional outbursts, providing gleeful relief from an otherwise tear-jerking movie. Strolling down the street, I too am distracted by birds, cones, sports equipment, loud noises and smells, all in a single release of verbal diarrhoea.
Doug, and his two varying friendly, varying irritated companions.
My Aussie friend (who spent the summer working in London, and thus offers considerable insight into our cultural quirks) describes British “jibber jabber” as saying the least amount possible in as many words imaginable. I thoroughly agreed. She then proceded to tell me how an English relative asked her to pass a spoon over the course of three sentences. Again, I responded with a roar of laughter and an approving nod.
Other cultures, we concluded, speak more economically: words weighted against their substance and necessity. Nordic societies, as ever, rank top on the list of efficient, effective communicators. The Brits trailing far behind, pre-occupied with discussion about the weather, cricket and Harry Potter.
Nevertheless, despite the inevitable exhaustion associated with everlasting conversations, this babbling bizarreness, we equally professed, was a whimsical, warm element of British society, with all its puzzling, peculiar, profane “jibber jabber” and … so on … and so forth.
My Aussie Counterpart and Me
Sources:
https://beatingcowdens.files.wordpress.com
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxoWHeoYU3g