Gambling with Speech Accommodation at the Grosvenor Casino

If you've ever recorded your voice and listened to it, you've probably said: ''Whose that #### and then realised it was you!

It would seem that even an audible version of ourselves can be hard to stomach.

Even her majesty the Queen would wince at my rasping, wheezing voice. She'd probably ask if I wanted a cherry tune.

I'm sure she doesn't suffer from such problems because she's used to her own chirpy soundbites. She knows how to speak to appeal to both the rich and the poor.   

Coming from the Fens, a farming community, where people have often been stigmatised by being local or having a ''Fennie Mindset'', ''Carrot Cruncher'' or stunted height or limited intelligence due to inbreeding there are hurdles every country bumpkin needs to jump.

If one prejudice doesn't get you it's another. 

Please don't ask me to take off my shoes and socks to show I haven't got webbed feet.

You have to smile, hey. Ignorance comes in all shapes and forms.

However, wouldn't you, at times, like to converse with the ''great and the good'' with a plum in your mouth. 

You've heard the expression of sounding like you have a plum in your mouth. Please don't let your mind veer off in a different direction.

I'm talking about being posh. 

I've never had elocution lessons (I had to check how to spell the word) but I probably should do. 

Best be my authentic self. 

I remember Ray Brooks said he had elocution lessons in his younger years. I wonder if he said: ''How, now, brown, cow?''

He has an accent that would fit in with the yuppie crowd but the acting skill to be a Fen Tiger if needed. 

I can't say I've seen too many posh punters at Great Yarmouth's Grosvenor Casino. In fact, I'm sure a few of the patrons have confused me with royalty. It's the way I order my drinks with a wave. 

I must admit you do get a few posh souls at the races especially if you loiter around the owners and trainers' entrance. In percentage terms, you are 95% more likely to bump into a posh person there compared with even the Members' gate. 

I'm not sure where the posh people go thereafter as they seem to vanish. Perhaps they turn common by osmosis.

There must be a posh part with a cattle grid to keep the heifers at bay. 

Have you ever noticed when bumping into a posh bird that you slowly (but surely) morph from commoner who forks shit onto the back of a trailer to the long-lost son of Lady Muck? It's like Donna Air turned posh when you know for a fact the Geordie within is saying: ''I'm gannin for ya!''

But back to talking to the posh bit. 

Through speech accommodation, you quickly transcend class with a new accent, set of words, and a need to order champagne while calling the waiter garcon. If this meeting of minds happened at the Grosvenor the chips turn from 50p to £100 a time. 

After drinking too much, losing a grand and the posh bird evaporates into a cloud of rich dust, you go outside into a cold, working-class, night and shout at the top of your Fenlandic voice: ''For Fucks Sake!''

Remember, as a gambler, be your authentic self.