The North/ South Divide

Whilst Northerners are labelled as poor, stupid binge-drinkers, Southerners are generalised as posh snobs. During my travels in my gap year, I discovered these prejudices were only known by the English: when I explained the ‘divide’ to foreigners, I was met with astonishment as to why, on one relatively small island, such prejudice exists? This led me to wonder if it really does exist, do the Southerners really look down on the Northerners, viewing them all as living on one gigantic council estate with a hoard of ‘banes’, chain-smoking and knocking back white lightening? Equally, do those in the North really view all those at the bottom of the country as privately-educated, rowing rich kids that spend Daddy’s money on weekends in Dubai and shopping trips down Oxford Street?

In May 2011, I’d finally saved up enough money from my supermarket and call-centre jobs to embark on a great trip, starting in Vietnam and seeing where else the wind took me (apparently it takes you to India, in case you wondered). The first English person I met was a builder from Brighton, who spent night and day locked in ‘banter’, 95% of which revolved around my Yorkshire heritage. Now, I liked Ben*, and whilst the so-called banter did wind me up a small fraction of the time, he was a kind guy and I knew it was all in jest. Although my preconceptions of Southerners where not totally abolished, I was beginning to warm to the idea that the ‘divide’ did indeed exist, but most Southerners do not live up to their (not great) expectations.

That was before I had the unfortunate encounter with ‘John-Lewis Boy’; when asked how I managed to make it to Vietnam, I told him of my fifty hour working weeks. With such shocking news he went on to spend forty long, long minutes describing the fifty grand inheritance he had just received at 18, and his intentions to skip university due to the unlimited access he had to the vast amount of money in daddy’s wallet and the good job he had just obtained through daddy’s contacts. Well, when I finally escaped from the guy I decided it was true: Southerners where snobs. Great for him to be so privileged, but did he really have to brag about it for so long?

I know this puts me in a terrible light, but over the next three weeks I met nothing but his doubles. I thought I’d finally met a nice Southerner, who proudly informed me he would be attending Durham University. When he asked where I was going and I replied Warwick, he was sent into a state of utter confusion and disbelief. He asked me: ‘you’re going to Warwick?!’ He simply couldn’t comprehend that a state-schooled Northerner could get in to Warwick. I wish you had seen his face when it appeared my A-Levels where better than his. But then he did ask.

It wasn’t all bad though- when I got to Thailand I met an abundance of Southerners who completely defied my prejudices. Paul was possibly the most well spoken and ‘posh’ guy I’ve ever met, and the loveliest too. This guy worked 60 hours a week to finance his travels, and only wore shoes for the first week of his trip. In spite of Adam’s Southern background, he fitted better into the Northern stereotype- he spent his entire trip binge-drinking, couldn’t even remember the names of the countries he’d been to, got chased by the police in Laos (which he called Lola) for stealing, and passed out on a beach for twelve hours after the Full Moon Party. Whilst his stories were delightful, I couldn’t help but wonder whether he would get more out of his trip if he could remember more than five nights of it.

I am proud to admit that I had been wrong to allow myself to be sucked in by the ‘divide.’ What I have realised is that the divide is much more prominent amongst youngsters, though the majority of insults sum up to little more than banter. In reality, the ‘divide’ provides great entertainment ensuring all insults are taken with a pinch of salt, and whilst some Northerners are binge drinkers and some Southerners are living off Daddy’s money, great proportions, or most, are not.

After a conversation revolving around the French being rude and the Americans being fat at work, I realised I was wrong, very wrong. We make generalisations about everyone and anyone, but the majority of us don’t genuinely believe them, they are simply fuel for a few jokes. When I first came to Warwick I couldn’t stand being the minority, and as a result, the butt of standard Northerner jokes, but when I’m back in Yorkshire my friends and I are equally as harsh about Southerners. As long as it’s all taken (and given) light heartedly, it’s fine, in fact it’s funny! Especially when you go to Hull and within a couple of hours accidently get bottled: there’s a seriously amusing side to defending your honour and then seeing the stereotype proved right.

The moral of the story is this: banter regarding the divide is ok, but to actually believe in the labels is not.