I walk past this sign everyday on the way to work and it never fails to arouse a childish snigger. The snigger is an internal one, obviously. If you have found this page by accident and do not know who I am, let me assure you I am not someone who stands in the middle of a City publically chortling at signage. If you ever see a person with such a trait and assume it is me, don’t go over and introduce yourself because you will end up looking like an idiot. And bear in mind you will be standing next to a man who laughs at informative boards, so to look comparatively idiotic would be quite an achievement.
But should the sign does catch me unawares one time and I do end up openly tittering in the street, then I should probably explain that it is the name “Top Nosh” which I find so amusing. Of course, here in Wolverhampton, it simply means food. But it is a word which seems to have a vast regional variation in its definition. Particularly Up North, where it is understood as a euphemism for phallic oral sex. Fertile ground for a terrible faux pas learned the hard way whilst working in Liverpool, after asking my hungry work colleagues if they were ready for their ‘nosh’. I still recall the whole office falling deathly silent as its Scouse inhabitants contemplated how without any prior warning, the new ‘brummie’ lad had seemingly tried to ingratiate himself to his colleagues by offering to suck them off. As you might imagine, this is not the kind of mistake you make twice, but it is one you frequently find yourself consequently being reminded of. It tends to leave a sour after-taste.
So if you are from the Midlands and are planning a trip up north, please do heed my warning and spare yourself the same humiliation that I suffered. Similarly, if you are from up north looking for a salacious thrill in the Midlands, do not go into the shop expecting any gratification beyond a fried breakfast. Don’t start thinking that Wolverhampton is the new Amsterdam. I can appreciate how seeing the words “Baps” and “Hot Pork” might appear to be further encouragement. But let me assure you that although “Jacke Pots” may involve a generous filling and a high constitution of starch, it is certainly not the name of a willing recipient for your grubby little Northern phalluses. For that sort of thing you’ll need to go to Greggs.
But should the sign does catch me unawares one time and I do end up openly tittering in the street, then I should probably explain that it is the name “Top Nosh” which I find so amusing. Of course, here in Wolverhampton, it simply means food. But it is a word which seems to have a vast regional variation in its definition. Particularly Up North, where it is understood as a euphemism for phallic oral sex. Fertile ground for a terrible faux pas learned the hard way whilst working in Liverpool, after asking my hungry work colleagues if they were ready for their ‘nosh’. I still recall the whole office falling deathly silent as its Scouse inhabitants contemplated how without any prior warning, the new ‘brummie’ lad had seemingly tried to ingratiate himself to his colleagues by offering to suck them off. As you might imagine, this is not the kind of mistake you make twice, but it is one you frequently find yourself consequently being reminded of. It tends to leave a sour after-taste.
So if you are from the Midlands and are planning a trip up north, please do heed my warning and spare yourself the same humiliation that I suffered. Similarly, if you are from up north looking for a salacious thrill in the Midlands, do not go into the shop expecting any gratification beyond a fried breakfast. Don’t start thinking that Wolverhampton is the new Amsterdam. I can appreciate how seeing the words “Baps” and “Hot Pork” might appear to be further encouragement. But let me assure you that although “Jacke Pots” may involve a generous filling and a high constitution of starch, it is certainly not the name of a willing recipient for your grubby little Northern phalluses. For that sort of thing you’ll need to go to Greggs.
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