(NOT EDITED) Brit anthropologists are studying the gradual extinction a rather strange breed who once resided in the East End of London in an attempt to discover why they are gradually disappearing from the planet!
Here are some explanations:
Cockneys are a rare breed of human species with over-exaggerated, idiosyncratic over-tones and a tendency to rhyme in slang. They are found mainly in the East of London in the vicinity of the Bow Bells (Bow Bells is a church and its bells are called the Bow Bells.). If one is not born within hearing distance of the bells, one is not a pure, real Cockney. Other species peculiar to the British Isles refer to Cockneys as anyone living below Watford Gap, its codswallop! In fact, Scousers, Mancs, Geordies, Scots, the Welsh, Celts in Cornwall, well virtually anybody really, are not particularly fond of this rare species.
One of the main reasons for their decline is their nutritional intake: Jellied eels, mince pies (eyes), apples and pears (stairs) are the main nutritional sources of Cockneys and they base their very peculiar dialect upon the consumption of such products.
Another reason is their tendency to produce footy hooligans who wipe each other out too! They mainly support their local soccer clubs, but many prefer to spread their wings and join forces with their main rivals from above the Watford Gap, calling themselves ‘Cockney Reds’ or ‘Cockney Blues’ or whatever happens to be the flavour or colour of the day.
‘Shanks’s pony’ is one of their favourite pets and a ‘bunch of fives mate’ is quite a common act of violence in local watering holes after a long and weary ‘Shanks’s pony’ plus several pints of best East London bitter, brewed by Pakistanis, mate? This has also contributed to their demise!
Their dialect is not understood by anybody else, just like Welsh, here some examples, and Cockney school kids only see their smart phones!
“What a load of ol crap mate” is a common expression used by Cockney’s whilst explaining the ins and outs of Petticoat Lane Market to foreigners, which once was a famous Cockney market, but now belongs to immigrants from mainly Asian countries and the Albanian mafia.
“Want some bovver? I’ll give you a ‘bunch of fives’ in your ‘norf and souf’ (mouth) if you do mate,” is also a common expression referring to “I’ll punch your fucking lights outs mate?” Get it?
Humans born south of the River Thames are not original, indigenous Cockney’s, but because of demographic wanderings of native Cockney’s attempting to escape Jews and Asians (among others) in Petticoat Lane, many move 'souf' (no TH pronunciations in the Cockney language only F mate)!
In the modern era, everybody who can say, “shut yer norf and souf mate or I’ll stick my fucking fist down it” tends to be referred to as a modern-day Cockney, Hoody, or plain lout. In fact, Boris Johnson, posh git, is attempting to ban the language totally!
Cockneys have several traditions and a very, deep, historical culture. They tend to invade Southend, Essex, in the summer months with buckets and spades. Alternatively, they go cockle and mussel eating in Margate, or other dilapidated south coast seaside resorts, if they’re not boarded completely up, or down, like, mate.
They often get dressed up in suits, female and male, covered in shiny buttons, avoid Morris dancing, but love a good old fashion knees up, a game of bingo on Sunday’s preceding that atrocious TV soap called, EastEnders, starring fake Cockney’s.
As mentioned before in this tourist guide to East London, Cockney’s can always be detected because they always drop their “th’s” i.e., I thought = I fought (very often in the pubs there), I think = I fink, one thousand = one fousand, bother = bovver as in boots, mother = muvver, father = favver, etc, etc. They also have no affinity whatsoever with any word commencing with H, i.e., Here = ere, hair = air, Harry = Arry, horny = orny, etc.
Another common colloquialism is they call nearly everybody ‘Luv’ not love; or if they don’t like you, Bitch, slag or gay, depending on which sex one happens to be. Oxford and Cambridge could be on planet Mars as far as they are concerned.
Many Cockney’s do have a certain charm about them especially the local car dealers called mainly, Dirty 'Arry (to be avoided if possible). Foreigners entering Cockney Land should always take a ride in a black cab, but please do not attempt to understand the driver or engage in conversations, unless one is forced to ask where the Tower of London is. He’ll take you there, no problem, on a detour crossing every possible bridge above his beloved Thames! They are such gentlemen and it’s never too much for them to take you for a ‘mighty ride mate’, especially if you are German or Japanese with a lesser command of the Queens English.
Evolution takes no weaker civilisations with it, and anthropologists have certainly "it the nail on the fucking ead mate!"