Yorkshire is the best county in England and here is why
*Sips Yorkshire Tea*
Of the 48 counties in the UK, Yorkshire is the biggest and as we all know, the bigger the better.
Hailing from Wakefield – to those from the South, that means Leeds – I have experienced both the highs and the lows of the county. But the misconception that all of Yorkshire is a bit of a shithole is just that: a misconception.
As every area has its flaws, Yorkshire truly outdoes itself in its strengths. There is a reason why it's known as 'God's Own County'. Here are some of its best bits:
The grub is without a doubt, the best
Yorkshire puddings. Yorkshire Tea. Wensleydale Cheese. Parkin. Liquorice. All find their origin in Yorkshire. We probably should also be credited for the Sunday Roast as, let's be honest, without a Yorkshire pud, it's simply not a Sunday Roast.
Historical AND attractive
I know, it's mad. Au contraire to the fallacy that all of the North looks shit, Yorkshire is actually home to loads of idyllic green expanses, quaint seaside towns, antiquated villages and buildings and historic landmarks, stately homes and castles. York is home to the largest Gothic Cathedral in Northern Europe, which as far as buildings go, is pretty fit compared to Notre Dame.
The Yorkshire Moors play a central part in Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, most obviously as the place where the namesake farmhouse is located. On a side note, the Brontes are just a few of the literary genuises born and bred in Yorkshire. Ted Hughes, Arthur Ransome (author of the Swallows and Amazons series) and Bram Stoker, although not born in Yorkshire, penned Dracula in the seaside town of Whitby. There must be something in the Yorkshire air.
A special shoutout must also go to the Peak district. In staunch defence when anyone ever dare question, or merely insituate, that Yorkshire is anything less than exceptional, we find it impossible not to name drop the Peaks and utter something about how lovely it is.
The accent that none of you Southerners can ever duplicate
Orate, there's actually nowt better than a northern accent. Ya can say owt ya want n it sounds good (although maybe not the word 'couldn't'; 'couldn't' does sound questionable in a northern accent). We have some reyt sayings…
Here's a few more just for good measure: "Were ye born in a barn?" translates to "Why have you left the door open?" "Chuffed" translates to "pleased" and my favourite:"Faffin" which translates to "unnecessarily messing around". I'll give a quick example of this one in a sentence: " My parents think I'm doing work…but I can't stop faffin."
On Ilkla Moor Baht’at
Essentially the unoffical anthem of Yorkshire. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this banger, 'On Ilkla Moor Baht'at' is a song sung in the Yorkshire dialect translating in Standard English to 'On Ilkey Moor Without a Hat'.
The song tells the tale of a man who, believe it or not…is without a hat. The man is with his lover, Mary Jane on… what a shocker… Ilkey Moor. The singers tell the man without his hat he will die of exposure from the cold…100% plausible. This will then lead to worms feeding on his corpse, ducks will then eat these worms, the singers will then eat the ducks and thus the singers will have eaten the young man.
In short: our anthem is song about cannibalism. Lovely. Isn't that just Yorkshire though?