That this House has considered regional accents and social mobility.
Thank you for chairing this debate, Sir Roger. The way we speak reveals so much about us. Long before we explain our politics, our profession or our background—the moment we open our mouths—our accents instantly signal a core part of who we are. Accents carry traces of our communities, our upbringing and our lived experience. They are part of our story. I grew up as a working-class woman from Salford, so my accent has always been woven into my identity, just as much as my values or my politics. After more than 20 years of living in Leigh, it has naturally taken on a Lancashire lilt. I say “beltin’” when something is brilliant, “int’ it” when I agree, and “love-leh” instead of “lovely”.
However, what is harder to confront is the pressure that many people feel to change the way they speak in order to progress. Accents can be a barrier, and it is a barrier that not many people speak about. There is a hierarchy of accent prestige deeply rooted in British society, yet we should remind ourselves of a simple truth: everybody has an accent—there is no such thing as speaking without one. What we often describe as a neutral accent is simply an accent that has historically been associated with power and prestige. There is no linguistic basis for ranking accents. No accent is inherently more intelligent, professional, articulate or correct than another. These are social judgments, not linguistic facts.
Our life chances are too often defined by our backgrounds. Those from poorer backgrounds are almost twice as likely to end up in low-paid jobs than those from more privileged backgrounds. Accent bias can then become another barrier to social mobility. Our accent produces a judgment instantly. Often, it happens unconsciously. Research shows that people form impressions from someone’s voice within seconds. People make assumptions about our background, our capability and our education. We often think we are judging competence or professionalism, when in reality we may be responding to deeply ingrained social stereotypes associated with a particular way of speaking. For someone like me, from a northern city, the assumption has sometimes been that I am less intelligent or that I am “rough” or uncultured.
The issue is not how people speak; it is how we respond to how they speak. A Sutton Trust report in 2022 highlighted that less than 10% of the population speak with what is often called the BBC accent, or the Queen’s English, yet it remains the dominant accent in positions of authority. As a result, many young people with different accents worry about the impact of their accent on their career prospects. They think twice before they dream big. Research by Co-op similarly found that many people have been mocked, criticised or singled out because of the way they speak. Together, those studies show how accent is often used as a proxy for social class, leading to unfair assumptions and discrimination.
I am sure I’ll be using a slightly different accent this evening when watching the football—a few expletives might come out as I shout at the TV. Does my hon. Friend agree that a part of public life is being authentic? One way to build trust and authenticity is to just be ourselves. That is important for diversity and, as she says, for our national culture.
I cannot agree more with that statement; I think we are grasping that more and more. We do not have to come from the places we represent—I do not—but representing our communities does matter and it is about being ourselves. I thank my hon. Friend for that intervention.
Colleagues across both Houses are proud of where they come from and of the voices that reflect that, and we should celebrate that diversity. But let us not pretend that the battle has been won. The way my right hon. Friend the Member for Ashton-under-Lyne (Angela Rayner) has been mocked and criticised for how she speaks demonstrates that accent prejudice remains alive and well in our politics. If somebody can reach one of the highest offices in the land and still face those attitudes, there is clearly lots more work to do.
My experience has shaped my interest in how regional accents influence people’s opportunities and representation. That is why I was delighted to host a parliamentary drop-in session for the Westminster Voices project and to support the important research being led by Professor Rob Drummond of Manchester Metropolitan University and Dr Amanda Cole of the University of Cambridge. I pay tribute to them both for leading the conversation on this. The turnout was exceptional. Every MP, peer and member of staff who attended had their own story about their accent, background and journey into Westminster. All that is why I felt it important to hold a debate on this issue today, because we all have a story to tell.
We should be clear: communication skills and accent are not the same thing. We should judge people on what they say and how effectively they communicate, not how closely they sound like an outdated idea of professionalism. That applies in Westminster and in the rest of the country. Action to tackle accent bias should be recognised as an important diversity issue. That means tackling bias through training, research and a greater appreciation of accent diversity in workplaces and education. The recent Commission on the Future of Oracy Education in England made an important point: communication is not about sounding a particular way. Every child should develop the confidence to communicate effectively in their own authentic voice.
My hon. Friend is making an important and interesting speech. Confidence is incredibly important, especially for young people. We have a huge youth unemployment crisis in this country, and part of that is down to young people not having confidence. Does she agree, first, that we must ensure that there is not accent bias so that people do not lose confidence and, secondly, that we must build young people’s confidence, partly through work experience and other schemes?
My hon. Friend is absolutely right about confidence. Politicians have a lot of work to do in supporting our constituents, including children and young people in schools and the workplace. I hope we can continue having this conversation with the Department to ensure that that happens.
The Co-op has done a lot of research on this issue and is calling for socioeconomic background to become a legally protected characteristic. That would ensure that accent bias and related forms of discrimination are confronted head on.
Our accents carry who we are—our identities, our communities and our lived experiences—and that diversity enriches our country. Criticism of the way someone speaks is rarely just about language; more often, it reflects assumptions about class, region and identity. We cannot solve every form of social inequality by addressing accent bias alone, but we can ensure that the way people speak is one less barrier to opportunity. We should stop asking people to change the way they speak, and instead change the way we as a society listen. From Parliament to every workplace, university and institution across the country, every voice deserves to be heard, respected and represented. When every voice can rise, our nation rises with it—louder, prouder and stronger than ever.
Thank you very much, Sir Roger, for giving me the chance to participate. I thank the hon. Member for Leigh and Atherton (Jo Platt), my cousin from across the sea—or across the shuck, as we would say back in Northern Ireland—for highlighting this issue. It is a real pleasure to speak in this debate.
When I first came here, there was a time in our friendship, Sir Roger—I have learned to value your advice on many things—when you would have said, “What’s that boy saying?” You never said it to offend, of course, but you might have asked yourself that question.
When we talk about diversity, inclusion and breaking down barriers to social mobility in the country, we rightly talk about race, gender, background and socioeconomic status. But, as the hon. Member for Leigh and Atherton said, there is a silent, pervasive form of prejudice that remains entirely socially acceptable in corporate boardrooms, academic institutions and possibly the very corridors of power in this place. I am talking about accentism. I have a very clear accent. I think it is normal, but when I came over here I realised that I might be the only one with it. People’s intelligence, competence and worth can be judged entirely on how they sound.
I will give an example. I was saying to the hon. Member for Chelmsford (Marie Goldman) that when I asked a question in the Adjournment debate one night, the Minister said, “That’s a great question. I’ll come back to you with the answer.” I just thought that was what she meant; I never had any reason to think otherwise. She happened to meet one of my colleagues, David Simpson, who used to be an MP, and she said, “Jim asked me a question in the Chamber the other night. I have no idea what he said, so I just told him that I would come back to him with a written response.” That illustrates that, in the early days, it took a wee bit longer for people to understand.
I stand here today as a proud son of County Down, and I speak with the voice of my constituency. All my constituents can understand it—I suppose that is the important thing. It is a voice heavily shaped by our rich Ulster Scots linguistic heritage. To me and the people of Strangford and Northern Ireland, it is the language of our hearts, our history and our homes. It is a dialect full of warmth, character and deep-rooted culture. But if we step outside Northern Ireland, that same voice is too often treated as a barrier. I speak not for me but for some of my constituents who have come here for university or to seek employment.
This is a serious issue—we must ensure that people are not disadvantaged for any type of accent—but does my hon. Friend agree there is sometimes a humorous side, as we saw this week in the European Parliament? A Sinn Féin MEP complained that they were not allowed to speak in Irish. When the chair reminded him that they could, the MEP replied that he was not prepared, so he would speak in English instead. It can be humorous—even if slightly embarrassing at times.
It certainly is. I appreciate that intervention from my hon. Friend and colleague.
The Hansard staff do a heroic job. They are always happy to write down the names of my local farmers, community groups and townlands such as Ballywalter—which we know as Whitkirk—or Kircubbin. Last week, I got a wee message, “Could you spell your sons’ names, please?” That perfectly illustrates the point of this debate, and the centre and core of what the hon. Member for Leigh and Atherton had to say. If a Member of Parliament, with more than two decades of public service, still faces hurdles to be understood because of his or her regional tongue, what hope does a 21-year-old graduate from a working-class Ulster-Scots background have when trying to navigate an interview panel of elites? How challenging and hard could that be?
One of my favourite stories dates back to when my hon. Friend the Member for East Londonderry (Mr Campbell) and I served on the Northern Ireland Assembly. It is again about the accent being hard to understand. I had an American guest for a meal in the dining room there. The lady, an English professor at a prestigious American university, was really interested in Ulster Scots words and accent. We were served by a young boy I knew and had probably grown up with in Ballywalter—or Whitkirk. I chatted with him and asked after his mum and dad, as you do in small talk. That lovely, intelligent lady from Philadelphia leaned over to Naomi, my private secretary, and said, “That’s wonderful. Jim is speaking in Ulster Scots.” Naomi replied, “No, he always speaks like that.” Again, that is an illustration of this. It was not really Ulster Scots; it was the way I talked. That is how we speak, and although that story may be humorous in a way, it highlights the issues that an accent can bring.
I will come back to the seriousness of this issue and why it is important. When someone constantly has to repeat themselves, is met with blank stares—nobody is ignoring them; sometimes they just do not follow—or is asked, “Could you maybe say that again?” or “Speak more clearly, if possible,” it chips away at their confidence. The hon. Members for Leigh and Atherton and for Glasgow South (Gordon McKee) both referred to that; it is a key issue. That breeds a form of imposter syndrome that tells our young people that they do not belong in high-flying professions, and it pushes them out of the rooms where decisions are made, as the hon. Member for Glasgow South said. Linguistic diversity is the ultimate sign of a rich and vibrant democracy. We should be celebrating the fact that the United Kingdom is a tapestry of different voices, dialects and accents. That enriches us all, and there are some people in this room—I am thinking of one in particular, and he knows who he is—whose accents I love listening to. I just love it when some other MPs, such as the Plaid Cymru Members, speak. Their voices and their words are almost like singing in the way they come over. There are also the Scotsmen. Angus MacNeil—I can use his name, because he is no longer a Member—was speaking one day in the Chamber, and my hon. Friend the Member for East Londonderry said to me, “Do you understand him?” I said, “I understand every word he said,” and he said, “I suppose you probably would.” Angus speaks fast; his words were at a rate similar to my own. That example underlines the issue.
It is a pleasure to serve under your chairship, Sir Roger. I congratulate my hon. Friend the Member for Leigh and Atherton (Jo Platt) on securing today’s debate. I have spent a fair bit of time near her patch over the past couple of months, and though we bang on about the Yorkshire-Lancashire rivalry, we are united by a few things: some of the best food in the country—including the finest pies—and of course, the warmth and friendliness that we are all proud of, and of which she is one of the finest examples in this House.
I want to be crystal clear: judging someone by their accent is an attitude that belongs firmly in the history books. I must admit that, when I first arrived in Parliament, I often felt out of place and like I did not belong—all because of my accent. Like many colleagues here today, I was not elected because I sounded polished; I was elected through hard graft and to represent the people who sent me here. I have done my best, though, to get a few Yorkshire phrases into Hansard, because that is how my constituents speak. I will kick off by giving a few more, having turned to Facebook for some inspiration.
There is some disagreement, and I am risking controversy here, but I stand firmly with saying “ginnel” over “gennel”—some things you have to get right. What came through clearly is that the Yorkshire dialect is not just colourful, it is precise. When someone is “mithering”, you know exactly what they are doing. If they have a “mardy”, you know what that means, and if they have “a monk on”, you know to stay well clear. When someone says, “It’s gone reyt,” you know it has gone properly well. Many of these words carry real history: “laiking”, “beck” and “fells” are all rooted in Old Norse. Long before Westminster caught up with the north, we were already shaping a language of our own. Yet too often, these words can draw blank looks—even within our own region. Mention a “snicket”, “ten foot” or “fuddle”, and you will quickly find out who understands proper Yorkshire.
It is a pleasure to serve under your chairmanship, Sir Roger. I thank my hon. Friend the Member for Leigh and Atherton (Jo Platt) for securing this important debate.
I am proud to speak not just as the Member of Parliament for Wolverhampton North East but as someone who has felt the pressure to turn down the dial on my accent. From day one of my entering the House, many here made comments—well intentioned, I am sure—about how they could hear my accent, which were usually followed by a “Peaky Blinders” comment. I am absolutely fine with that, because I am a huge “Peaky Blinders” fan”. In isolation, it is fine, but when I hear it again and again, I cannot help but feel self-conscious, and it can become quite tiresome.
Shortly after I was elected, after I made my maiden speech, this was all put into context by a message I received from a former student. She said, “Miss”— I am always “Miss” to my former students—“I am so proud that I can see and hear somebody on the telly, somebody in Parliament, who looks and sounds like me.” That was it. That gave me the confidence to just plough forward and to continue to speak loud and proud in my not so dulcet Wolverhampton tones. That is why representation matters for young people growing up in Wolverhampton and Willenhall. Hearing voices that sound like theirs in Parliament and in positions of leadership sends a powerful message: you belong here too. It tells them that they do not have to change who they are to succeed.
That matters because there is a clear link between accents and social mobility. Research for the Sutton Trust described accents as one of the strongest signals of socioeconomic background and found that accent bias continues to affect people’s experiences throughout their education and employment. The evidence is striking: a Sutton Trust study found that 30% of university students and 29% of university applicants reported being mocked, criticised or singled out because of their accent. I was recently told of a young man who withdrew from the first day of his university interview at the University of Birmingham. He had applied to study medicine, but he felt belittled by the peers in his group. I have heard of a student on a placement in a scientific lab whose accent was mocked by others, day in, day out. Rather than bring out the best in him, that caused him to withdraw and become a shell of a person, not the brilliant person he usually is.
I say a big thank you to my hon. Friend the Member for Leigh and Atherton (Jo Platt) for bringing this important debate to the House. I am keen to discuss this issue, as someone who was forged in the coalfield community of Ashington, which was the biggest coalmining community in the world. After more than 16 years in this place, some people might say that I have lost my own accent, but I am really proud of it. An accent represents who you are, where you are from and who you represent. It is your identity.
There are two sides to this issue, which I think have already been mentioned: a humorous side and an important, serious side.
I love the hon. Gentleman’s accent. It portrays the person he is: the history, the culture, and the locality he comes from. Every word that the hon. Gentleman speaks is a word from his constituency and from his people. I like him as a person, by the way, but I just wanted to say that I love his accent as well.
That is very kind of the hon. Gentleman. My youngest son Liam speaks with a much harsher dialect than me, but he speaks five times faster than the hon. Gentleman. Imagine the problems that causes us when we travel abroad, or even to Yorkshire, for example. People do not have a clue what he is saying, but he is university educated and is absolutely fantastic at the work he does.
My accent is pitmatic: it is from the pits, from the coalmines. Every little village and town had their own pit—some had more than one—and we all spoke different. In one town, we had our own language and dialect—our own speak. I am proud of that. I am really proud of the fact that, when I left school with very few qualifications, I went to work seven miles under the North sea with some of the finest and brightest people I will ever meet: the miners. Not many of them ever got the opportunity to go to university, but you should hear the way they speak. When I look at some of the videos and recordings of the miners in my patch from days gone by, I can hardly understand what they are saying, but it is so rich in heritage, it is absolutely wondrous, to be honest.
I have an anecdote before I get on to the serious part. Two or three years ago, in my patch in Ashington, a group of asylum seekers met a shadow Minister to discuss the situations they faced in towns like mine, and one of the big barriers was the dialect. They said that it was okay and that they could understand what we were saying; the big problem was that their children were going to school and picking up the dialect. When the children were coming in from school and speaking to their mams in their best Ashington dialect, their parents did not have a clue what they were talking about. That is how serious it is, and that is the situation in areas like mine up and down the country.
This place easily intimidates people. Fortunately, I am not the type of person to be intimidated, but I have faced my fair share of hostility in this place. It is as if someone with an accent like mine should not be in here. If anything underlines the lack of correlation between competence and dialect, we only need to look at the dialect of our Eton-educated former Prime Ministers. They did not do much good for my community.
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It is sad to think about the number of young people who have missed out on opportunities because of their accent. Self-consciousness and anxiety about accent bias are highest during university and early professional life, which should be the very moment when ambition grows, rather than shrinks. They see their peers at university succeed, but they themselves may feel held back. I challenge anyone to watch the UK Youth Parliament in action and not feel energised by hearing young people from every corner of the UK speaking confidently in their own voices. The answer is not to talk their accents out of them; it is to talk our biases out of ourselves.
Accent diversity is part of Britain’s cultural richness; it is not a problem to be solved. In a country with such a remarkable variety of accents in a relatively small geographical space, our linguistic diversity should be celebrated as part of our national heritage. I admit that there was a time when I wondered whether softening my accent might make me sound more credible, more professional, more Westminster and less Salford. Even in my first marketing job as an apprentice in central Manchester, I worried that the way I spoke could limit my prospects so I toned my accent down. My friends used to say, “Why have you changed your voice? Why are you speaking like that?” That experience reflects research showing that many people change the way they speak when applying for jobs.
Of course, all of us naturally adapt aspects of how we speak depending on who we are talking to or the setting we are in: our telephone voice or when we speak here in the Chamber—we all do it. That is entirely normal. The problem comes when people feel pressure to change the way they speak not out of choice but because they fear prejudice, exclusion or lost opportunities. Before I arrived in Westminster, I worried about whether I would fit in. After all, many of the politicians occupying the highest offices of state have rarely sounded like me—with notable exceptions, of course, such as our Secretary of State for Education and our great Speaker, whose Lancashire voice is heard loud and proud in this place every day. The more time I have spent in Parliament, the more I realise that beneath the public image lies an increasingly diverse collection of accents, backgrounds and life experiences.
Studies into accent bias, such as the landmark “Speaking Up” report by the Sutton Trust, have shown that regional working-class accents, including those from Northern Ireland, are consistently ranked lower for prestige and perceived professional capability than received pronunciation or standard BBC English. I remember, at school as a young boy, my earliest words were in Ulster Scots. Education was different at that time. Whenever a child said something wrong, the teacher, Mr Whisker, would say, “That’s not proper English.” I would say, “Those are the words my granny and mum use.” In those days, a child would get a clip round the ear for that. That is not a criticism; it did not do me any harm. Teaching was done in a different way.
Young people from my constituency, who travel across the water and study at top universities or apply for corporate roles in London, are routinely told—sometimes subtly, sometimes brutally—that they need to soften their accents if they want to be taken seriously. That it is a damning indictment of our social mobility framework. Why should a young person have to trade away their identity just to get a foot on the career ladder?
We speak pretty fast in Northern Ireland, and the speed of words may be part of the problem. Kate Hoey, the former Member for Vauxhall, said, “Jim Shannon gets more words to the minute than any other MP.” In all honesty, she told me that and I took it as a compliment, which I am sure it was. The fact is we do talk a wee bit fast. The House will know I am not a man who is shy about speaking up for his constituents. I mention Strangford almost as many times as the hon. Member for Harlow (Chris Vince) mentions Harlow.
I make it a point of principle to participate in as many debates, urgent questions and statements as I humanly can. I have lost count of the number of times the brilliant and hard-working staff from Hansard have had to chase me—down the corridor sometimes—saying, “Mr Shannon, have you got a wee minute, please? Could you send me your notes? Who was that person you mentioned? Where was that place? Will you spell it, please?” They do it for urgent clarification of names, towns or specific phrases I have used in a debate. I say that with the utmost fondness and kindness to the Hansard staff, who are incredibly understanding. I respect all of them for doing a heroic job. I know they go the extra mile for me to ensure that everything is correct.
What do we need? We need employers, universities and civil services to actively train interviewers to look past the phonetic wrapper and focus purely on the substance of what has been said. I will conclude with an Ulster Scots phrase for Members to work out—it will be a challenge, of course. Keep ‘er lit!
It was not just in Parliament where I felt out of place; it was also at Oxford. I am incredibly proud to be a state-school kid who worked hard to get there, but when I did, some of the older tutors actually mocked the way I spoke. They were not correcting my grammar or debating my ideas; they were judging whether somebody who said “nowt” really belonged in their so-called hallowed halls. Research shows that nearly a third of university students have been mocked because of their accent, and almost half of workers say that they face jokes or jibes about the way that they speak in workplace settings—including me, in my experience at the Bank of England.
I felt it when I started doing national media as an MP, too. I turned up, ready to talk about serious issues, such as getting funding for a station in my constituency, or tackling antisocial behaviour—standing up for my constituents—but too often I felt as if only clipped southern voices sounded suitably authoritative. I was not always invited on to programmes—although, strangely enough, there was never any shortage of invitations to those where the producers would tell me how much they love a proper, thick Yorkshire accent. I really appreciate that, and those producers know who they are. I am especially grateful to broadcasters such as Matt Chorley, who is helping to challenge some of the assumptions in national broadcasting and to get regional accents on air. The real success, of course, will be hearing someone from Yorkshire or Lancashire on national radio or TV without it being worth commenting on at all.
I am immensely proud to be from God’s own county. I have always tried to stay authentic to my roots—a West Yorkshire family, a North Yorkshire upbringing, and always proud to represent York—but I would be lying if I said I had not softened my accent at times, including when working in the City, because I thought that was what I had to do if I wanted people to take me seriously. I do not want my two boys, Robin and Louis, to grow up believing that if they want to pass an interview or land a graduate job, the first thing that they have to do is to change how they speak. When a young person starts believing that they have to hide or change their accent, it chips away at their confidence. I believe also that we are wasting talent. Businesses across Britain are facing a productivity hit if they overlook good, honest graft for absolutely no reason.
A young person from Haxby or Bishopthorpe should not be marked down because they do not sound like they grew up in Belgravia. By the way, I should also give a special mention to “Bratford”—or, as some may say, “Bradford”—where the same applies, of course. If the best jobs in finance, law or politics still mean moving to London—and that has to change, by the way—and sounding like you have always lived there, we have not solved the problem; have we?
I want children watching Parliament on television to hear someone who sounds like them, not someone who they feel they have to become. Otherwise, too many young people will carry on believing that making it means leaving part of themselves behind. Whether someone grew up saying “ey up”, “nowt” or “summat”; whether they call an alleyway a snicket; whether they tell their mates “It’ll be reyt”; or whether they are simply “chuffed to bits”, their voice is never something to be ironed out; it is part of who they are.
Of senior managers from working-class backgrounds, 29% said that they had been mocked or criticised at work because of their accent. Throwaway comments of that sort can affect people’s self-esteem and make them question their value in the workplace. People do all that is asked of them—they work hard, achieve good qualifications, secure professional jobs and climb the career ladder—but still feel pressure to hide the sound of where they come from.
Social mobility should mean expanding opportunity, not conformity. The challenge for all of us is to broaden our understanding of what professionalism sounds like. Talent does not speak with one accent. The more our institutions, including Parliament, reflect a full diversity of voices across Britain, the stronger we all become. As someone from Wolverhampton North East, I want every person listening to know this: our accent is not something to overcome; it is something to be proud of. It connects us with our community, our families, our stories and our values. Social mobility should not mean conformity. We must ensure that people are judged on their ability, attitude, character and potential, not on whether they sound like they belong. I urge the Government to carry on their work to equalise opportunity and build on social mobility practices.
My constituents are proud of where they come from. There are subtle, and often not so subtle, patterns of speech that mark communities that are only miles apart. Many people are forced to choose between maintaining an accent they are proud of or ditching it to try to move on in life. That is just not right. It is the last form of acceptable discrimination, and it is absolutely ridiculous in this country. Where you speak, how you speak and where you are from affects how people identify you, and people discriminate against you because of what you say.
Despite some recent setbacks, this country has done fantastically well to rid itself of many prejudices, but the one that remains is the one we suffer from the most: the prejudice around social markers and local dialects, and the ideas about who we are and where we should be in life because of how we speak. Before saying anything more than a sentence, people from Ashington, Blyth, Bedlington, Newbiggin-by-the-Sea, Choppington and Stakeford are judged. The people in my patch refuse to compromise their dialects, but they are judged every single day for them, and we have to tackle that.
The north-east accent often acts as a proxy for social class and colours the opportunities for far too many people—mainly younger people. In some areas a local accent can be positively viewed, but they are too few in number. Trade unions, community organising, social work, youth work, skilled trades, emergency services, sport and local journalism stand apart, but even in those fields the class prejudices that follow a person’s accent can limit their opportunities.
Nobody should be forced to ditch their accent for a job or to reach their potential. As I said, when I worked as a pitman I met some of the finest thinkers in the world, and I listened to their political analysis while sitting in the pitch black seven miles under the North sea. They are the people who built our nation, but they continue to be looked down on by those who see themselves as their betters. Accents are a proud part of the heritage and legacy of those who went before us—the giants of our movement we stand with, who should never be forgotten. That well-known red Clydesider John Maclean said:
“Rise with your class, not out of it.”
That should include maintaining your accent.
A whole number of issues have been raised in some of the briefings that have been sent out. It is worth mentioning some statistics at this point: 69% of people change their accent to fit in; 27% change the way they speak for a job interview; 24% change the way they speak at work; 26% have been teased in the workplace for their accent; 11% believe they missed out on a job because of their class and social status; 10% felt discriminated against when applying for a job because of their background and social class; and 61% of people would support making discrimination on the basis of socioeconomic background illegal.
Professor Rob Drummond says that people across England have expressed positive views about regional accents, but still rated northern-accented speakers as less intelligent and less “correct” when hearing identical speech. Earlier research found that lower-working-class speakers were judged to be 14% less intelligent, 4% less friendly and 5% less trustworthy than upper-middle-class speakers. There is huge prejudice about people with accents like mine.
I have often been asked if I am Dutch, Ukrainian or Russian. I am asked what part of Europe I am from. Am I German? Am I Irish? Although that is quite humorous, there is a serious point to it. I will never, ever change my accent, and when I say that I will never change it, I am speaking me best Queen’s English. I have really slowed down my speech for this contribution today, because I am not far behind the hon. Member for Strangford (Jim Shannon) in terms of how fast I speak. When a group of people from where I live get together and we have had a few pints, believe me: there’s nobody can understand what is being said. Nobody has a clue.
I think my friend, the hon. Member for Strangford, said before that in this place you can be speaking to people about very serious issues, issues that your constituents face, and you can tell that the person who you are talking to is not taking it in. They just say, “Yes. Yep. That’s right.” Indeed, you can say some of the most extraordinary things and they will just say, “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” because they are not taking it in, and that is because of your accent. That is a serious issue.
I am a proud member of the Northumbrian Language Society, which since 1983 has championed the diverse dialects of Northumberland, north-west Durham and Tyneside. The man who did most to mark this organisation was the Ashington-dialect poet, Fred Reed. He has written some fantastic poetry, which I urge people to read. They will not understand it, but it is worth reading and it highlights and accentuates a point. He was very proud of the mining community that he came from, and he knew that working people created the wealth of the nation. In his own words, “Dividends were won by the pitmen’s blood.” I think that is a fantastic saying from a fantastic individual. The legacy of the miners and workers who left us our rich dialects should be the eradication of that final, acceptable prejudice. That way, we can break down the barriers for brilliant working-class kids who, given the opportunity, can change the world.