Summat, Snap and a Sound Kidda: The Leopard's Guide to Potteries Pub Talk

Walk into The Leopard on a Friday evening and the first thing that greets you isn't the hand pumps or the chalkboard. It's the sound of a conversation that seems to be running in code. Two blokes by the bar are discussing whether it's 'a bit starved out' and whether anyone fancies 'summat from the kitchen'. A woman at the corner table calls her friend 'duck' and neither of them is a waterfowl. Somebody asks 'ow at?' and the answer takes ten minutes, because that's how it works here.

Potteries dialect isn't a performance. Nobody at The Leopard is doing it for the tourists. It's just the local way of getting through a Tuesday, and it happens to be one of the warmest languages in England. So for anyone new to Burslem — or anyone who's been listening for years and nodding politely — here's a bar-side phrasebook. Not exhaustive. Not academic. Just useful.

First, the Greeting

Ow at? — the great Potteries opener. It means how are you, but it isn't really a question. It's a handshake made of vowels. The correct answer is 'not too bad, ow at?' and then you're in. Nobody expects a medical report.

Ay up — hello, or sometimes a gentle warning that someone has just walked in, or that the conversation is about to change direction. Context does the heavy lifting. You'll hear it from the doorway, usually followed by a nod towards the bar.

Duck — a term of endearment, used across generations and genders. The first time a stranger behind the bar calls you duck, it can feel oddly familiar. By the second pint it feels like a promotion.

Kidda — mate, pal, comrade in arms. A sound kidda is someone you'd trust with your last chip. A proper kidda is someone who'd buy you a fresh pint before you noticed yours was empty.

The Language of the Table

Scran — food. Any food. Good scran is the sort that arrives hot, sits heavy and doesn't ask for a review. At The Leopard, scran is a word that covers everything from a bowl of lobby to a proper Sunday dinner.

Snap — food you bring from home, traditionally eaten at work. A snap tin is a lunchbox. If someone mentions snap in the pub, they're either remembering their dad's bait box or gently suggesting the kitchen is a better idea.

Cob — a bread roll. Not a bap, not a barm, not a muffin. A cob. If you ask for a cob with your soup and get a confused look, you're not in Burslem any more.

Oatcake — the Staffordshire staple, thin and savoury, best eaten warm with a bit of butter or bacon. It is not a pancake. Do not call it a pancake. The town has suffered enough.

Lobby — a thick, hearty stew, usually with potatoes, meat and whatever the kitchen has decided is sensible. It's the sort of bowl that makes a winter walk home feel like a mild inconvenience.

Taters — potatoes. Simple, useful and often the difference between a decent plate and a great one.

Weather, Chills and the Human Condition

Starved — in Burslem, this doesn't mean hungry. It means cold. 'It's starved out there' is a weather report, not a plea for soup. Though a plea for soup is rarely far behind.

Nesh — someone who feels the cold more than most. A nesh person wears a coat in September and still keeps the fire on in May. There is no shame in it, but there will be comment.

Saft — soft, silly, a bit daft. Used affectionately. 'He's a saft ha'porth' is basically a character reference.

Bostin — excellent, brilliant, just the job. You'll hear it about a pint, a pie or a performance from the football. It's a generous word, which suits the room.

Bar Shorthand and Small Conspiracies

Every pub develops its own vocabulary, and The Leopard is no different. 'Same again?' is a question with a known answer. 'The usual' is a contract. 'Just a half' is a sentence that rarely survives contact with the second round.

You'll also hear the phrase 'now then' used as a complete greeting, a mild challenge and an invitation to explain yourself, all at once. And if someone says 'I'll get these in', do not argue too hard. Reach for your wallet, offer once, then accept the kindness. That's the ritual. The language works best when it's shared.

A Small Quiz, Marked Kindly

1. Someone says 'ow at?' Do you: (a) explain your medical history, (b) reply 'not too bad, ow at?', or (c) leave the pub immediately?
2. Your pint arrives with the words 'there you go, duck.' Are you: (a) insulted, (b) confused, or (c) quietly pleased?
3. A friend describes the weather as 'starved'. Do you: (a) order them a chip cob, (b) put your coat back on, or (c) both?
4. What is a cob? (a) a bread roll, (b) a horse, (c) a complicated tax arrangement.
5. 'Bostin' means: (a) terrible, (b) excellent, (c) a type of sausage.

Answers: mostly (b), with a bit of (c). If you got the cob question wrong, there's a warm corner table and a copy of the menu waiting for you.

Why the Words Matter

Nobody at The Leopard will quiz you on your dialect. You can order a lager in received pronunciation and still get served with a smile. But the language is part of the welcome. It's the difference between being a customer and being a face. It's the reason a stranger can be called 'duck' and feel like they've been coming for years.

So next time you're in, listen for the code. Try an 'ow at?' of your own. If it comes out wrong, someone will correct you kindly, and then buy you a half to soften the lesson. That's Burslem. That's the bar. And there's always room for one more voice in the chatter.