Wednesday, 17 January 2024

The Danish word Fuck


I was a lexicographer for over twenty years, so I know everything there is to know about compiling the entry
 fuck in English for a bilingual or monolingual dictionary. From the smallest pocket dictionary to the largest several-volume tome, I have had to analyse fuck. And to be perfectly honest, it really isn't all that interesting! It usually means almost nothing! Had she not been cremated, my old granny would be spinning in her grave at the thought of her granddaughter being paid to discuss the nuances of fuck in meetings, given she told me once she would never let that disgraceful word cross her lips!

Analysing the use of the word fuck in Denmark is quite interesting. There seems to me to be an inverse correlation between how good a Dane is at English and how bad they are at getting the nuances and the register of fuck when speaking English. Poor English speakers tend to avoid it, whereas decent English speakers take the now Danish word fuck and transpose it back into English as if the two fucks are direct equivalents, which they certainly are not!

Often I notice when I am on Facebook that foreigners who are excellent at English - in particular Scandinavians, Dutch and the likes use it when writing their facebook statuses in English for things like:  
  • '3 minutes late for nursery today - fuck!'
  •  'Foggy weather today - fuck!' 
I, as an English native, know fuck is way too strong for these comments, but the foreigners seem to think fuck is on a par with shit or even damn, which it most definitely isn't. Too many American movies have somehow led the non-native, fluent English speaker to believe fuck is something every grandmother utters when the rain comes on while she's hanging out the washing! 

In the past I came across two examples of fuck in a very non-native context. Firstly, a few years back I was wandering around a large toy shop in Arezzo in Italy when I was stunned to hear the music piped in the background was Lily Allen's 'Fuck You'! A catchy, cheery wee tune but believe me - you are never going to hear it piped into Toys R Us in the UK or US! And later the same day I was passed in the street by a couple, who looked around 45 years old, walking up the main street in Arezzo holding the hand of a child - a little boy of about 6, 7 at most, wearing a simple black T-shirt, plain except for the slogan 'FUCK OFF!' in large upper case white letters. You simply wouldn't see that in a native English country. 

Since moving the Denmark I am knee-deep in weird examples. Danes have taken fuck into Danish as a standard swearword, but it has strangely become much milder in Danish. Here are just some examples...

  • Teachers happily use the English word fuck in front of their class to express mild annoyance, even when the kids are as young as 7 or 8. Things like 'Fuck I forgot the marker pens for the whiteboard, I'll be back in two minutes'. That certainly didn't happen back in Newton Mearns!
  • School kids therefore use it back to the teacher and no one bats an eyelid. Imagine the teacher announces something along the lines of 'Sorry kids, I'm gonna have to cancel the art lesson today', he would fully expect the kids to reply 'Awwwwh, fuck, that's annoying!' In Danish fuck really is like damn, or milder still like awwwh. One of the things my youngest struggled most with when we came here was remembering that it was absolutely fine, and even expected, that you would say fuuuuuck when speaking in Danish if you were disappointed in class but you sure as hell needed to remember not to say it to granny on visits back home if she was two seconds late passing you the ketchup!
  • Often on news reports and documentaries on prime time TV again people being interviewed use fuck at the drop of a hat. Here are a couple of examples from recent TV: Today we have had severe flooding in the north of the country. We're here in Aalborg with a local businessman Lars Jensen can you describe how it affected you? Oh yes, I got up and came downstairs to find the cellar flooded, I thought Fuuuuuck! This is a completely normal broadcast. You even get it for surprise. Here's another example: We are getting reports that the Queen just indicated she intends to abdicate, we're here with Mette Nielsen who works in the local Coop. What did you think when you heard the news Mette Nielsen? Well, I just turned to my boyfriend and went fuck, I wasn't expecting that!
  • Watching the Danish version of the Great British Bake-off, someone screws something up every week; they burn their cake, their icing is too runny, whatever, again old ladies weep fuck in unison on prime time telly, before being comforted by the judges or the presenter.
But where it goes wrong is when Danes think the Danish word fuck is translated into English by the English word fuck. A reasonable assumption but usually a very wrong one.

I'm not a prude, as someone who gets paid to analyse language, I have always been more than comfortable with using it and even prefer my kids to use the words they mean rather than some pointless euphemism. I remember back when Marcel was 11, which wasn't yesterday,  his primary school asked parents with interesting or different jobs to come in and give a talk to the p7 (age 11) classes about what they did. I think back then I was the only lexicographer in the school, though was joined a few years later by an ex-colleague. So, I volunteered. As we neared the date of my talk Marcel, a bit of a teacher's pet goody-two-shoes type was looking more and more ill-at-ease and I couldn't tell why. We often had discussions about language and pragmatics at home and I didn't shy away from discussing any words that came up with my kids. Eventually he blurted out in a panic 'Mum, you know you're not allowed to analyse the word fuck at my school in your talk, don't you? You'd get me into trouble!' I laughed. While I had, of course, tailored my talk to suit the sensibilities of Newton Mearns 11-year-olds, it was reassuring for Marcel to know he could trust his mum not to cause a linguistic uproar. Léon, on the other hand, would probably have encouraged me as a means of acquiring some sort of legendary status...

But the bottom line remains: just because you have taken a word into your own language and changed the pragmatics and register of it doesn't mean you can just transpose it back into its original language the same way! I really am considering writing a course for foreigners to get them to understand this concept in all its glory.

Tuesday, 16 January 2024

Farewell Daisy, Hello Fred

I'm not sure whether this post belongs on my normal blog, or here as it is as much about my weekend as it is about the quirks of Denmark. Thought I'd jazz it up a bit for here so as not to bore anyone who happens upon both! 

Well, would you believe it? There's a new monarch in town.

So, picture this: it's New Year's Eve, and I find myself sprawled on the couch. Why, you ask? Well, some nasty flu bug decided to crash my Christmas party, and I'd barely set foot outside. Now, normally, I'd give the Queen's speech a hard pass, but there I was, a captive audience. Quite the compliment, considering I've never once watched the UK monarch's Christmas speech. Being a good Scottish republican, you know, the kind that doesn't sit down to watch Lizzie – or probably Charlie these days – address the nation.

Now, the first year I landed in Denmark, I did my homework for Danish class by tuning in to the Danish Queen's speech. Old Queen Magrethe, unlike most Danes, speaks at a pace even a sloth would find leisurely. A foreigner's dream, really – comprehension-wise, at least. Fast forward to the end of a rather lengthy and not exactly riveting speech, and she casually drops the bombshell that she's stepping down in a fortnight. Mind you, no one's abdicated in Denmark for 878 years. Cue Denmark going into meltdown.

First, there's a good half-hour of stunned silence, as if she'd actually dropped dead mid-speech. But hey, they love their Queen Daisy like bees love their queen, so within 30 minutes, the hive mind decides it's the best thing ever. Monarchy support skyrockets to 80%, with only one in five Danes thinking twice about splurging tax money on royal luxuries – oops, I mean service to the nation. Equality, anyone? Apparently, some are just more equal than others...

Fast forward to last Sunday, coronation day. Feeling all Danish, I decided to grab a cake to celebrate. Unfortunately, this entire island had the same idea, and my go-to award-winning bakery had sold out before I'd even got dressed.






But I'm not one to be defeated by a cake shortage, so off I went to the big Coop bakery. Ghost town. Almost sold out. While the rest of Denmark glued themselves to the telly or, better yet, camped out in front of Parliament for the royal show, I was on a cake mission.















Flags in gardens, kids rocking crowns like they'd raided Burger King, folks waving flags like there's no tomorrow, weeping pensioners – you name it. 90,000 people on Parliament Square in freezing cold unison chanting 'hurrah' with the Prime Minister in some cult-like manner. They even invaded TikTok with this type of gem:

Watching their traditions, like the monarch riding in a golden horse-drawn carriage – no heated seats, mind you – seemed like drawing the short straw. No wonder she resigned if it meant swapping the carriage for a comfy limo. I mean, heated seats are non-negotiable in Northern Europe!

The bowing and curtsying? King Frederik bowing to his own mother? My kids don't pull that stunt with me! As she exits, she declares 'Gud bevare Kongen!' (God save the King). Not exactly how my mother used to take her leave of us after Sunday dinner back when we lived in Scotland! It's all a bit unrelatable. Maybe it's monarchy in general, not just this one, that's the issue.

This little country feels more like a clan than a nation. As a foreigner, I could see the vibes, but I couldn't feel them. I didn't know how to. Why is this family different? The new King's my age, has four kids instead of five – are we really that different? Apparently so, but I'm not sure how or why! I felt like an outsider watching a national family party I hadn't been invited to mentally. I secretly wonder if the new Queen, also a foreigner, felt a bit on the outside, or maybe it's easier when the crowd's going wild for you, the state's filling your bank account, and you get citizenship as a wedding gift, instead of perpetually climbing Everest to a citizenship that at my age is all but unattainable.

Come Monday, kids at school were gushing like a family member threw the party of the century. Except for my youngest – 'No one mentioned it, Mum. They weren't interested.' Rebellion at 14, back in the fold by 20, maybe?

I bet this all sounds familiar to those who watched Charles's do last year in England. But hey, I was too busy washing my hair that day to catch any of the footage. 😉

Anna summed it up on the day for this house... 
Anna: You see that crowd of people waiting outside in the cold to greet the new king of Denmark, mum?
Me: Yes.
Anna: I can guarantee you one thing... My future husband is not in that crowd!🤣

Koldskål, ymer and other weird things

I've mentioned before the dearth of product selection in all standard-sized local Danish supermarkets. The exception to this (other tha...